Traded
by Wisecrack Idiots
Summary: What would have happened if Bluestar had rejected accepting Fireheart's nephew, Cloudkit, into ThunderClan? What if StarClan had made it so? A Warriors AU about the national best selling series, rewritten from books three to six, about Cloudkit.
1. The Longest Prologue: PT 1

The Longest Prologue

**Marked by birth,**

_They're going to make him take me back_, thought Fireheart. His breath began to come in shallow gasps. Darker thoughts pushed their way into Fireheart's mind. _What if Bluestar asks Tigerclaw to abandon him in the forest? He'll never survive. Oh, StarClan, what am I going to say to Princess?_

As every last cat settled itself at the Highrock's base, Bluestar's voice—a calm, chilling menace—broke the inquiring silence. "Cats of ThunderClan," she meowed. "As you all know, Fireheart brought us his sister's firstborn with the hopes of us promising it warrior life. Tonight you all spoke; you all agreed that there was trouble with two outsiders in the Clan, let alone just Fireheart."

The frail hope that had settled itself in Fireheart's chest was quickly subdued by a wave of revulsion. For a moment he could do nothing but gape stupidly. His heart plummeted, as if the ground he had been sitting on had vanished beneath him. _No..._

Over his growing doubts and horror Bluestar spoke, the silence thick among every cat, confirming the worst fears his imagination could produce: "Therefore"— Fireheart thought he had seen an unmasked emotion swim in her eyes before she plowed on coldly —"this has been overseen as a punishment. He shall be taken in the forest. StarClan will decide his fate."

A savage yowling of triumph rose in chant from the crowd. Through the gaps of faces, however, Fireheart saw some differences: Graystripe's yellow eyes were wide, and Sandpaw looked slightly sick.

"Leave him for the foxes and crows?" Darkstripe screeched. "We should kill him now!"

On the dark tabby's other side an angry hiss came from one of the queens. "You would _dare_ murder a kit in cold blood?"

Her statement went unnoticed as many warriors raised their voices in agreement. Bluestar silenced them with a quelling look. The loathing the ginger tomcat felt for Tigerclaw reached a braking point as the brown tabby nodded, looking deeply amused by the Clan's savagery, which goaded Fireheart into speaking.

"Why?" Fireheart called out angrily, no longer able to keep silent. He sprang to his paws. Vindicate fury, pure as lightning raced down his limbs, lending him the power of speech. "What's he ever done to you? We need warriors! Brindleface has lost a kit to sickness already"— behind him Brindleface let out a mournful wail —"and my own apprentice might never become a warrior!"

"She will not, as you know well, Fireheart," the ThunderClan leader meowed. Her blue eyes were chips of ice. "But there is always the promise of kits in newleaf. Your status has been damaged, however—as have ours—by adopting you into ThunderClan and coming here tonight with the kittypet. I've made allowances for you, my apprentice, my warrior. You have no idea how fortunate you are to have been allowed to share our territory, to be a warrior—though even now, I question this decision..."

"What? No!" Terror crashed down on Fireheart. He had to dig his unsheathed claws into the ground to keep himself upright. Beside Bluestar, Tigerclaw seemed to have given up on hiding his triumph; his lip curled into a baleful sneer as he leered tauntingly at the kittypet-born warrior.

_Why?_

Numb with nothingness, Fireheart barely realized that Bluestar had continued in the same flat and quiet voice: "The will of this Clan was not only the supportive voice in my decision to refuse your kin. StarClan has spoken, and we must obey."

With bated breath the cats stared raptly up at their leader, who stood, looking exhausted. This sudden turn of events seemed to be sapping all of her energy just as greencough had. The tension was only broken when One-eye called from the back row. "There has been a sign?"

Bluestar waved her tail, beckoning to some unknown presence. "Yellowfang," she called, "if you will."

Fireheart had not seen the medicine cat leave her den. Yellowfang rarely abandoned her patient's side these days, caring consistently for his apprentice day and night. Now, however, with her head bowed Fireheart saw the gray she-cat shuffle across the clearing. She approached the foot of the boulder and dropped something he could not see. Many cats craned their necks to catch a glimpse of this mysterious object. Nonplused, he shouldered Longtail out of the way to stare down at Yellowfang's bundle: a tuft of white fur, singed a smoky gray-brown as if burned.

Fireheart stared up challenging at the blue-gray she-cat. "How do we know it isn't Whitestorm's fur?"

"Mine?" Whitestorm's neck fur bristled indignantly as he yowled, "I never took part in such conspiracy!"

"Look," Brackenpaw whispered; his eyes were as large as full moons. "It's still kitten-soft..."

"Brindleface," Bluestar's voice rang out over the outpour of concerned meows, "you've been with the kit since Frostfur told me he was left in your care. No one has been near the nursery, have they?"

A very pale-faced Brindleface shook her head slowly, her eyes wide and whiskers trembling.

"Yellowfang," demanded Tigerclaw impatiently, "you are sure this a sign from StarClan?"

"Oh, yes," Yellowfang meowed dryly, her head bowed in defeat. "Old as I may be, I can still recognize a sign from my warrior ancestors."

Fireheart trembled. He stared from Runningwind, who merely shook his head, to a stony-faced Swiftpaw. Was everyone going to overrule him?

He glared up at the pale gray sky, layered with clouds that would soon befall snow upon the camp. _Did StarClan really send such a powerful sign?_ He had always thought of the glittering pricks of starlight as a comforting presence. Now, as he stared unseeing up at a milky sky, bile rose in his throat. He wanted his ancestors to stare down at him, so that they could see the anger that was screwing up his face with torture. _Spottedleaf!_ he wailed. _Please, no, you can't rob me of my second apprentice!_ But the beloved medicine cat who had perished so moons ago made no sign to overrule her ancestors', or Bluestar's, decision.

_He can't die_, Fireheart repeated to himself, _he can't, he can't . . . _Had StarClan really sent that sign? His green-eyed gaze traveled to Yellowfang, who turned her flattened, unkempt face away from him.

Determined not to show fear, he swallowed and addressed his leader once more. "So are you telling me you'd be willing to sacrifice an innocent kit for the welfare of this Clan?"

Bluestar's eyes, momentarily narrowed and glassed over, snapped open. Neck fur bristling, she yowled, "You do not_ know_ sacrifice, Fireheart. There are more important things than the protection of one single cat, compared to a whole Clanful. If such tasks measured next the needs of ThunderClan, then yes, I would. If you can question such a thing, Fireheart, then you may as well take your nephew and get out of my sight!" The last words she spat out.

Fireheart flinched as if Bluestar had raked him with her own claws. He had never seen her possessed by such anger. Her fur stood on end, doubling her size, and her spine was arched with unmistakable wrath. Why had that question riled her up so much? _She_ had never had to bear listening to another cat condemn her own kin to death. And he could _never _leave ThunderClan... Where would he go?

He was barely aware of Sandpaw pressing her flank against his side for support, or Dustpaw's sharp intake of breath. He stared up imploringly at Bluestar, who shook her head weakly; all signs of powerful energy had vanished from her, leaving the she-cat looking older than ever. "You will take the kittypet to the Sunningrocks and come back directly, Fireheart. Snowfall seems close, and we need to build up a cache of fresh-kill. The prey in the pile will be crow-food in a few days' time. Tigerclaw, see to the patrols."

The dark-coated deputy bowed his head. "Yes, Bluestar," he meowed silkily, his amber eyes glittering with suppressed glee. Fireheart stood up shakily and shook off the sand-colored apprentice. Sandpaw gave a startled squeak but didn't protest. Many of his denmates drew back as he padded toward the nursery, closely followed by Brindleface and Frostfur. Both queens looked highly distressed.

_It's Tigerclaw's fault_, Fireheart thought savagely. _He did it. He planted the burnt fur in Yellowfang's den. He persuaded Bluestar to say no. Bluestar would have never have been so cruel as to sacrifice a kit for ThunderClan's well-being unless StarClan said so. _

_But how could Tigerclaw have the power to singe fur? _another voice protested in a resigned sort of way. Where had it come from? There weren't any other white cats in ThunderClan, apart from Frostfur and Swiftpaw, and they had both been at the meeting.

Before he knew it he found himself in front of Brindleface's mossy nest. Her surviving kits, both pale gray with darker flecks, made the tiny form of his sister's son look out of place with his fluffy white pelt next to the forest-born kits' fur. All three were tucked in sleeping bundles, the tiny kit finally well-fed and warm. How could he take him away from such a life? The life of a warrior? Could he really condemn his sister's son to a struggle against the forest's wrath overnight, after all that she had done for him? All that she had _given_ him? Fireheart wanted to wail aloud his grief, to slash his claws over Tigerclaw's battle-scarred muzzle, to challenge the ancestors he had come to believe in and love...

More thoughts clambered over themselves in a confused jumble in his head. Meanwhile Brindleface had curled up around the kits and was licking the white kitten on top of his head.

"Be brave, tiny warrior," she murmured in a choked voice that brought Fireheart back to the present.

"Can't you do anything?" he begged Frostfur, who shook her snowy head.

"I don't understand it either," meowed Frostfur slowly. "But Yellowfang is renowned for her interpreting skills as she is for her healing. There can be no mistake."

Indignance made Fireheart's hackles rise. "So we simply have to bow to this cruelty?"

Frostfur barred her teeth and rounded on him. "What else can we do?" she spat. "The best you _can_ try to do besides snap at me," she hissed in a lower, warier voice, "is to take him far away from here. He'll be better off in the forest then growing up in ThunderClan, when we are sickened, weakened from empty bellies and currently at a state of open warfare against the other Clans. Bluestar must have seen this and decided it was best. Safety matters in these dark times."

Fireheart unsheathed his claws and growled in a louder voice, "You said so yourself, Yellowfang is one of the greatest medicine cats this forest has ever seen. He could have survived." _He shares my blood. _"Then you agree with Bluestar?"

"Quiet, please!" meowed Brindleface. The tabby queen gave one of her kits a nudge with her muzzle. "This is a nursery. I expect better of warriors than to squabble like kits."

"But it's about a kit, isn't it?" Fireheart meowed sadly, reluctantly sheathing his claws. "How could she say such a thing?"

Frostfur's eyes clouded with pain. "I don't—it isn't that simply..." The white-furred cat sighed and pawed the ground. "I don't agree with my leader," she meowed, "but Bluestar is a great she-cat. If she feels it best for the Clan, and with all so many recent pressures, what else can she do? She just got over sickness... You must try and see it from her point of view, Fireheart. The word of a Clan leader is law."

"She could have said yes and kept him!" meowed Fireheart coldly. Grief racked his insides like a storm. Could Bluestar _really_ be so ambitious as to look away from a kit that could one day be a warrior the Clan could be proud of, Clanborn or not? Or was she right to believe that the other Clans might attack, with tension already at exploding point? "How can all of you be content to just sit there and let her _kill him_?"

Frostfur snapped. "Instead of trying to bite off my head, why not use yours?" she said. "Think, you mouse-brained fool!" Fireheart was cowed; he had rarely seen the gentle queen so prickly. "If we invite another kittypet into the Clan it could provoke the other Clans to attack. Listen!" she urged him, as Fireheart opened his mouth to retort; "She has no other choice. All the cats seem firm to chase out your kin. We're all desperate, StarClan approved of Tigerclaw's words—_will you be quiet!_ We need food, and must devote our time to providing for the Clan now. Your kin could even be better off with greencough running rampant. Mousefur and Swiftpaw are both getting coughs; Graystripe only just got over his chill from his douse in the river. And you made this decision without thinking, without the leader or deputy's consent."

Fireheart snorted. Tigerclaw would sooner adopt Fireheart as a son before he would let his nephew join ThunderClan. The complete hopelessness of it all sank in, lapping hungrily at his soul. He wouldn't...he couldn't do it...

"Then I'll take him away," Fireheart decided in and instant, the anger he had been struggling to control now inflaming him. "I won't let Tigerclaw kill him!"

Before either queen could protest Fireheart snatched up the kit by his scruff; he let out a wail as he bumped him over the den floor, but he didn't care. Brambles tore at his pelt as he pelted out of the nursery and across the camp. Everything looked restored; cats were either sharing tongues or fresh-kill in groups, and Willowpelt was about to lead the evening patrol. Their prejudice scared him as much as it repulsed him. He had though he could challenge their feelings on his own birth origins, but after tonight, one word from their ancestors and their hostility and indifference was as strong as when he had first joined. Fireheart ran past the patrol, ignoring Longtail's jibe that followed after his hindquarter's through the gorse tunnel.

Blinding whiteness greeted him as he plunged into the snow-cropped forest. Tree branches, now glistening with frost, glittered like moonstone. The thick layers of snow rose to his legs and muffled his steps as he plunged through the drift. Instinctively his paws carried him toward the Sunningrocks, but not on Bluestar's orders. Anywhere to get away from the camp seemed satisfactory enough.

Blind panic made Fireheart dizzy as the frost bit into his fur. The kit's tail and hind paws dragged in the snow; he let out an occasional wail that Fireheart was sure would send out any nocturnal predators into their midst.

"Shhh! Please, can't you be quiet?" he begged softly, circling in the roots of an oak tree. With his ginger tail he cleared away the slush to allow his nephew some rest. Circling around his tiny body, he curled his tail over him and murmured a few comforting mews. _What good would that do? _he thought dully, licking him behind the ears as he had seen queens do. Icy winds bit into his skin like ticks. His kittypet kin was now mewling nonstop, let out hungry whimpers that neither the howling wind or echoing silence of the forest could mute.

Despair flooded through his chest. The sky was darkening; Tigerclaw would probably be prowling through the forest in their direction soon, checking if Fireheart would keep to his words and abandon the kit. He could almost see Tigerclaw's merciless sneer as the great tabby tom parted the undergrowth with his broad shoulders, prowling forward with his claws unsheathed, maybe about to do the unthinkable and silence the kit himself. Guilt hadn't caught up with Tigerclaw's conscience yet, so why should killing a kit matter to the great tabby after Redtail's death and Cinderpaw's accident?

Twigs crackled. The crunching of snow underpaw drew Fireheart back to his senses. Quickly Fireheart sprang to his feet and sank his claws into the snow. Eyes narrowed, he gazed into the shadowy figures of bare trees and dead ferns, listening intently. It wasn't just his imagination now. He had_ heard_ something. He sought apart from the darkness of night the glint of amber eyes, or perhaps the heavy footfalls of a massive tomcat, a swish of tabby fur behind a fern clump...

From a gap in the yew bushes that lined the edge of the trees a familiar, tentative voice spoke. "Fireheart?"

His heart racing, the warrior could barely believe his eyes as Graystripe pushed his way out of the undergrowth. Snowflakes clung to his long pelt, making him look like a cat made of ice. Shaking it off impatiently, he turned to Fireheart with an awkward grimace.

"Cold out, huh?" the gray warrior mewed, settling into a comfortable crouch a tail-length away.

Fireheart's paws prickled with mistrust. "What are you doing here?" he growled.

Anger wiped away the pity in Graystripe's yellow gaze. "Coming to find you!" he hissed. He glanced quickly at the kit and meowed, "Take your kin and follow me. Willowpelt is taking the evening patrol this way soon, and Tigerclaw's in it."

When Fireheart didn't respond Graystripe hissed quietly, "Move!" and shoved him with his head. Unsteadily he rose to his legs and scooped up the tiny kitten. His kittypet kin let out another pathetical mewl, masked by oncoming gusts that rained down sleet. Together they plowed away from the RiverClan border, occasionally checking the air for the scent of any of their own warriors. Fireheart allowed Graystripe to lead the way, as he had no idea where to go. The stream that ran beyond the rise of the sandy hollow had frozen over, the flame-coated warrior noted, as he and Graystripe crossed the icy surface in a single leap.

They put the Owl Tree behind them a good distance as the wood thinned. The distant groans from the nearbye Thunderpath had vanished. Monsters, it transpired, hated getting cold as much as Clan cats did. Fireheart stopped gratefully when Fourtrees came into view at the lip of the slope, only to have his hopes plummet when his friend meowed, "We're not resting yet."

His cracked pads ached even more at the prospect of walking. He reluctantly crawled down the slope like a many-legged spider, slipping on ice as they reached the bottom. "Where are we going?"

"Ravenpaw and Barley's."

"Why there?" Fireheart asked curiously as they climbed the WindClan side of the hollow.

Graystripe's face darkened as he meowed, "It was the only friendly place I could think of right now. Here, let me take him for you."

"Oh. Right, thanks," puffed Fireheart, as he missed his footing and slipped back a few inches. He dug his claws into the snow to steady himself before passing his wet bundle to Graystripe. The gray warrior accepted the kit without another word and disappeared into the undergrowth. Forest changed into moorland. The roar of the gorge still rang in the silent valley. They were soon in WindClan's heartlands, passing the abandoned badger sett they had once sheltered in on their mission to find WindClan. It seemed like ages ago after everything that had happened recently. He and Graystripe had still been friends then too, facing the dangerous task together. This thought didn't cheer him up.

Another thought crossed the orange tom's mind. "Won't WindClan attack us or think we're stealing one of their kits if they see us?" The idea of starting a war between already peaceful Clans, on top of the whole ordeal they were currently facing, didn't seem very appealing to him.

As if reading his mind, Graystripe replied through a mouthful of fur, "It won't come to that. WindClan are our friends."

"For now." A prickle of annoyance spiked Fireheart's fur. "We're rivals. That's what the warrior code says. It also tells us to question enemy cats on our territory no matter what." _Though you don't care about that, do you, Graystripe?_ he added silently, slightly ashamed of himself for having to think such a thing.

Graystripe stopped, and Fireheart bumped into him from behind. The large gray tomcat swung his head around and snarled. "Keep Silverstream out of this."

"Why can't you see how much trouble your relationship is causing?" challenged Fireheart, ignoring the sting of the hail buffeting his face.

His friend's yellow eyes fogged over with pain. "How can our love do any harm?" he whispered hoarsely, reminding Fireheart irresistibly of Silverstream.

"Tensions are really high right now!" Fireheart gasped. He raised his voice over the howl of the wind and meowed, "It goes against the warrior code when you sneak across the border to meet with her! Did you also forget who her father is?"

"Crookedstar," grunted Graystripe indifferently.

"Exactly." Some satisfaction that his friend knew that simplified as much as it complicated their situation. "How do you think he'll feel when he finds out his own daughter is betraying him for a tom from ThunderClan?"

"He'll never find out," Graystripe meowed promptly, though his confidence sounded fading, replaced by anger. "Silverstream won't let that happen. She knows when the patrols are sent out, as well as hunting parties."

"Did you ever think," snapped Fireheart, "that your _scent_ would be a dead giveaway if you keep meeting in the same place?"

"Fine, fine!" Graystripe retorted busily. "We'll meet at Fourtrees! Are you happy?"

"No," Fireheart mewed quickly, ducking his head to avoid a large brush of thorns.

"You've never been in love, Fireheart!" Graystripe grizzled. "Who are you to say what is and isn't worth dying for?"

"I didn't—oh, this is useless!" Fireheart yowled over the oncoming snow now raining from the sky. "I can't hear my own thoughts in this! Under here, it'll disguise our scents as well."

He motioned to a large patch of heather that curved inward, leaving a sheltered space away from the surrounding sea of vast snowfall. Graystripe hesitated, then reluctantly turned and followed Fireheart into the shelter of the dead plants. With a busied sigh he turned on the spot, clearing a spot where he tucked the tiny kit into the curve of his stomach. Mewling, the white kit pressed into Graystripe's thick, abundant gray fur and shivered.

Anxiety clutched at Fireheart's stomach. He lowered his head and sniffed his kin, lifting his head to Graystripe. "Will he be okay?"

"Yeah, I think so," meowed Graystripe, not taking his round eyes off of the tiny kit. Emotion swam within his eyes as he turned his head up to Fireheart. He was trembling. "Fireheart," Graystripe meowed uncertainly, looking around, as if trying to steal himself time or find words that could describe the fear that was making his whiskers tremble.

Alarm coursed through Fireheart, sweeping away all his earlier difficulties with the gray warrior. "What is it?"

The fatherly affection Graystripe had betrayed for Fireheart's nephew returned as he whispered, "Silverstream is going to have kits."

The bottom of Fireheart's jaw dropped open in amazement. For a moment, he could only gape stupidly at his best friend. He was starting to feel that after tonight, nothing would ever shock him again. Then he swallowed and resumed with the wild thoughts flashing through his head: "Are you _insane_? Do you realize how badly this treachery mocks the warrior code?"

Graystripe, who had been watching Fireheart hopefully, returned his puzzled stare. "Why does it matter? It's not as if cats will _die_ just because Silverstream is giving RiverClan a reason to be proud."

Exasperation made the ginger tomcat narrow his eyes. "Think!" he burst out, pacing back and forth. "Cats _could_ die if they ever got wind of who their father is. Wars could spawn off of such knowledge, over who has claim to the kits. They'll never know you're your father." He stopped and turned pointedly to look at the gray tomcat, who flinched as Fireheart gritted his teeth. "Why, Graystripe? Of all the she-cats, why her? Your kits aren't the only ones in danger; Tigerclaw would make sure that you would be sent into exile, as he made sure of wi-with my kin just now."

Fireheart hesitated, not adding the words, _Or he'll kill you_.

Graystripe bristled. "I know you don't really mean that," he scoffed, turning his nose away. "She has as much to risk as I do. And you respect her, I know you do." With a steadying breath he plowed on. "They'll never know, we've made it this far, and I'm sure it's happened before. Otherwise we'd _know_ about the failed cases of other less fortunate star-cross lovers, and _wouldn't_ know about the successful warriors."

"They probably aren't heard of," Fireheart meowed impatiently, "because their Clans were too ashamed of them to ever mention their names again! I'm not saying this to discredit you," he snapped, as Graystripe opened his mouth, "but I'm saying this because I don't want to loose...to loose my friend." He hesitated. Their fight from the previous day still echoed sharply within his mind. His injured leg stung were teeth marks were freshly encrusted with dried blood. "We're still friends, aren't we?"

Graystripe seemed to consider him for a moment. All their recent bitter disagreements seemed to flow freely in the open, all their difficulties and feelings crashing into the same shared universe. All that remained was the clean, cut answer. At long last Graystripe stated much more calmly, "Of course you are. I know you care about me, Fireheart, but I'm not a kit anymore. I can look after myself."

"I never said you couldn't," meowed Fireheart, relieved. "But that doesn't mean something could happen."

"If a queen chooses not to reveal the name of her mate then she is allowed to not say. And she saved me." The gray warrior's voice dissolved into a pained whisper. "I love her."

Fireheart's muscles loosened as he gave his friend's ears a brief lick. "I know you do," he meowed softly. "But your kits will never know you're their father."

"Who says I won't tell them?" Graystripe said sharply, the challenge rising back into his meow. "They'll have a father they can be proud of, wether he comes from ThunderClan or not. And if—if I can't tell them, then at least I'll know and that's all that matters."

"But will that be enough?" Fireheart pressed on without pausing to consider the pain his friend might be feeling. "What if you have to fight your own son or daughter? RiverClan is still hunting at the Sunningrocks. I _know_ that Silverstream's Clan is still weakened with hunger, and I wish there was something we could do to help them. But if piling on troubles if the warm-up, I'd hate to see what the second round looks like. It's bad enough already."

"But don't you see!" Graystripe gasped so suddenly that Fireheart jumped. "This is the perfect solution!"

"To what?"

"Your nephew!"

In spite of himself, curiosity evaporated his previous anxieties. "How is your illicit romance going to save the kit?"

"Well," Graystripe mewed, "he's white, right? And Silverstream is silver, her father's pale-furred... What if we pretended, you know, if..."

"If _what_?"

Graystripe's face lit up with excitement as he meowed, "What if we smuggled him into Silverstream's litter and pretended that he was one of her kits? They'd look a lot alike! And that way Tigerclaw or Bluestar would never know."

For a moment Fireheart tried to picture his nephew growing up in another Clan, his kittypet kin thinking that he was pure RiverClan blood, not realizing that he was a kittypet, or that, had things been different, his future would have rested inside _Thunder_Clan instead...

"No," Fireheart answered firmly. "It's not worth it."

"Then where else can he go?" Graystripe sighed in exasperation, digging his now unsheathed claws into the tangled gorse. Tussocks of springy grass clumped between his claws. "The rest of the Clan expects him to be dead by morning, either a scrap for the crows or to be polished off by the frost. It's his only chance to be raised within a warrior Clan without having to be returned to the Twolegplace."

"Yes," Fireheart growled. "And you'll be his foster father? He'll never know who he really is, or what he means to me." Fireheart felt his throat tighten as he trembled. "He was my own flesh and blood, my only kin within ThunderClan who might have understood kittypet roots. I don't want to lose what that feels like."

Meeting Graystripe's gaze, he saw sympathy as well as understanding in those yellow depths. Did Graystripe expect all the problems between them to be patched up now that they were in the same predicament? _Shrewd_, Fireheart thought waspishly. Shame prickled at his fur like a flash of lightning. Graystripe was doing this to help him. This was their only chance . . .

"But," Fireheart meowed, a little desperately, "my nephew will be, er, obviously older-looking than the rest of Silverstream's litter. How do we know that Mudfur won't realize he's not Silverstream's son?" _How do we even slip into the middle of their camp and pass him over without every warrior noticing?_

Graystripe's whiskers twitched. "I thought you'd say that. You see, if I ask Silverstream, the day she expects her kits to arrive we can her meet near Fourtrees. From there, if we simply slick down your kin's fur he'll blend right in, as good as a tiny newborn kit. They'd be born outside the RiverClan camp."

Hope once again stormed inside Fireheart's head like a swarm of bees, magnifying his gratitude. "And you're willing to do this...all for me?"

Graystripe's eyes glowed warmly in the semidarkness. "You're my best friend, Fireheart," he meowed, not unkindly. "Of course I would."

A hoarse purr formed in Fireheart's throat. For a moment, the raging storm outside seemed to dissolve as he stared from Graystripe to the kit rested against his best friend's pelt. _Just think_, he urged himself consolingly, _he doesn't have to know we're kin. I just need to remember the life I'm giving him now, and everything he could have one day._

Unbidden, for a moment he imagined that he was racing through the undergrowth with his kittypet kin behind him, a white blur that tore through the ferns by his side. Reckless happiness fueled his determination. That great future spread itself before him like bird wings, and he couldn't tear his thoughts off of it.

"Then why are we heading to Ravenpaw and Barley's barn?"

"He'll need a place to stay for a while before we can bring him into Silverstream's litter," Graystripe replied instantly, as if he had been anticipating the answer. He nodded his head excitedly. "So when we're ready, we can go and fetch for him."

Fireheart nodded. "We should get going soon," he added, peering out into the now lightly falling snowfall. "I'd hazard a guess that it's moonhigh now. We'll need to be back by at least dawn before any cats become suspicious."

"Mouse dung!" Graystripe spat unexpectedly, looking frustrated.

Fireheart jumped. Quickly he stuck his head outside the heather, expecting to see enemy cats.

Nothing.

"Don't do that!" he mewed weakly. "I thought you saw a badger or something trying to get in..."

"We should have left blood at the Sunningrocks!" Graystripe hissed, raising a paw to his muzzle to examine it. "That way it would have looked like scavengers took him."

Fireheart screwed up his face with bitter resentment. "Tigerclaw would have been suspicious if he saw a little trail of scarlet heading for Fourtrees, instead of a full-out massacre. He's used to tons of blood being spilled, so a few drops would only disappoint him. It was a good idea, though," he added encouragingly, as Graystripe's ears flattened.

"Would we have left paw tracks?" Graystripe wondered miserably.

Again, Fireheart stuck his ginger head out into the open. "No," he answered firmly, scanning the dark gray sky. "The snow should have covered our tracks. Besides, unless Tigerclaw's a bat, he won't be able to see his own tail out in this. Can you bring him? We need to get going before this worsens; just our luck."

The solid gray tomcat nodded as he rose to his paws, gingerly lifting the tiny kitten by his scruff. He lout out a petrified, pathetic mewling as his hind paws left the moorland ground and dangled in the air. Through a mouthful of white fluff Graystripe meowed, "It's not far. If we get there quickly, no one will notice that we took our time."

Fireheart twitched an ear to show he heard before carefully sticking his shoulders outside. Like a giant white pelt, snow spread across the springy grass of WindClan's territory. Paw step for paw step the ginger tomcat picked his way over the frost, leaving a trail behind him. Graystripe padded more smoothly in his wake, treading less slush in his best friend's slipstream rather than tackling the storm head-on.

Doubt shadowed each step the ginger kittypet took. Their journey seemed to lengthen with every heartbeat, their destination never looming closer. Finally, the thing that was troubling Fireheart the most burst out of his mouth before he could stop himself: "Why did Yellowfang lie about StarClan sentencing the kit into exile?"

Graystripe's eyes narrowed, but he didn't turn to reply. Instead the big gray cat flexed his shoulders and sprang, clearing a fallen log without flinching. Fireheart wasn't so lucky; his fur snagged on a protruding branch and he stumbled on the landing, slipping over a patch of buried ice. Graystripe instantly backtracked and circled around him.

"Are you okay?" he meowed through gritted teeth.

"Yes, I—I'm fine," gasped Fireheart, gingerly standing up. He tried to put weight on his front leg and found it could still support him, though it wobbled under the strain. Wincing, he took up the pace again with Graystripe at his tail. A throbbing in his paw made him grit his teeth. _I have to keep going..._

"Well?"

Shaking sleet out of his face, Graystripe meowed quietly, "I don't think she did. The sign was genuine."

"How could it be?" Fireheart asked as he scrabbled up a rock side, snagging his claws over the smooth wind-swept surface. Scarlet smears of blood left by his bleeding pads were quickly swallowed up by snow.

"Well." The warrior ducked his head apologetically before quickly rushing on, "After the meeting I went to visit Cinderpaw, and she said Yellowfang was in an awful state. She was terrifying to watch after StarClan sent the omen." His face darkened. "Our warrior ancestors seemed to...to think that your kin shouldn't be allowed to join. They weren't clear why, though."

"And they said to kill him in cold blood?" Fireheart snarled, shaking his head disbelievingly.

"That was Tigerclaw's idea. He said the sign made it look like a punishment, and that we had to follow it through. The Clan's really sick...they felt that they needed to do something to earn StarClan's approval, so that they would banish away the sickness. Well, at least some cats did."

ThunderClan's barbaric savagery made Fireheart unsheathe his claws into the thickening, belly-high snow. "Medicine cats make Clans better, not dead warriors." He paused. "You said only some cats believed this theory. Care to lighten up?"

Snow tumbled down the side of a boulder mound, where the wind blew to them stale scents of WindClan felines. _This place is often used as a look out._ Instinctively Fireheart scanned the ridge, checking for signs of a cat on watch. The storm seemed to have driven all of the WindClan cats into their nests. _Good, it's deserted._ He didn't want to "thank StarClan" right now, as it was their fault that he out in the middle of this awful weather.

"Yellowfang was furious," Graystripe answered after a moment of contemplation. "She kept muttering about how they were all obsessed with pure-blood inheritance. Not aloud, though. A lot of cats supported Bluestar's decision—Tigerclaw's, really—and she didn't want civil warfare when her Clan needed her, so she kept her muzzle shut. Though I bet she'll be speaking with StarClan at half-moon, no matter what. Cinderpaw was upset, and what she really needs right now is rest. Frostfur and Brindleface were sort of undecided."

"Undecided?" Fireheart echoed. They had reached a barrier of snow-topped brambles. Pushing his way through the gorse, he left a thin, scraggly tunnel behind him, earning himself a few cuts that stung painfully. "Pass him to me," he meowed to Graystripe.

Leaning forward through the gap, his friend gingerly held the white kittypet between his teeth, careful to avoid twigs. Fireheart took his kin by the scruff and pulled him back out of harm's way while Graystripe struggled out of the brambles. Glittering frost stuck to his long pelt. Impatiently he shook it off. "I'll take him back now."

Fireheart muttered, "Thanks," as he passed his kittypet kin back to Graystripe. As they set off through the thinning moorland snow Fireheart pressed on: "What did Brindleface and Frostfur say?"

"Like I said, they didn't know what to do," Graystripe answered, shaking each of his paws in turn every few steps. "They were just as anxious as the rest as the Clan and equally superstitious. But being queens, they didn't like the idea of having to let a kit die just to make StarClan happy." He drifted off into silence, and Fireheart didn't need to hear anymore.

Familiar haunts seemed to vanish buried under the snow. At last, the stone walls of the welcoming, warm Twoleg barn grew within sight. Together Fireheart and Graystripe picked up speed and bounded the last few fox-lengths, avoiding the ditch where a swarm of rats had claimed one of Bluestar's lives. A narrow gap in the wall stretched like a mouth, big enough to fit a full-grown cat.

"Ravenpaw!" yowled Fireheart over the volume of the wind. Fear folded in his mind like dark wings. What if Ravenpaw or Barley weren't home?

For a few seconds they stood outside, peering into the dark confines of the barn. Relief gushed through Fireheart like a frothing river when a surprised voice answered. "Fireheart? Graystripe? Is that you?"

The black loner squeezed through the hole in the wall. He looked as well-fed as the last they had visited him a mere few moons before. He flicked his white-tipped tail in greeting, brushing muzzles first with Fireheart, then Graystripe. Sensing warmth close at hand the kitten began to cry even harder.

Ravenpaw's eyes widened as he spotted the kit Graystripe was carrying. "What is that?" Worry ignited like fire in his eyes green eyes. "Is that a ThunderClan kit? Why did you bring it here? Have you both been exiled?"

Some still-existing past paranoia made his fur bristle. "What's Tigerclaw done this time?" the loner hissed sharply, lashing his long tail.

"No!" Graystripe protested. "It's nothing like that, it's—"

"Ravenpaw? What's going on?" a new voice meowed.

Braley's hay-scent flooded through the gap in the Twoleg barn as the muscular black-and-white tom joined his companion. His eyes, momentarily lit with surprise and delight, quickly subsided into suspicion when they fell on the white kit.

To Fireheart's surprise Barley lowered his head and sniffed his flank. "Bring him inside," he ordered, his expression guarded. "He'll be dry and safe in there."

Without another questioning look the loner slipped back inside; Ravenpaw shrugged and beckoned to Fireheart and Graystripe. The trio crouched and stalked through the gap, emerging into the shady confines of the hay-littered floors. There was a gap in the roof, though snow seemed to catch onto the wooden roof rather than filter into the barn. Walls shielded them from any drafts, and in greenleaf would keep its inhabitants cool.

Mouth-watering, pungent scents of mice wafted through the barn. The prey here was still running greenleaf plump despite the cold weather. For a moment, Fireheart couldn't help but envy his friend's easy life, away from Clan perils and sinister omens. _The kit could have grown up here and been happy_, he thought warily. Catching himself, _But he's going to be a warrior_, the flame-coated ThunderClan cat added.

Barley had disappeared for the moment, leaving himself, Graystripe and Ravenpaw alone with his nephew.

"Can you help us?" Fireheart asked, suddenly feeling guilty for burdening his friend with his own problems that had everything to do with a Clan Ravenpaw no longer called home.

Ravenpaw nodded. "You saved my life. I haven't forgotten that, to either of you," he meowed, turning his head in Graystripe's direction and blinking his eyes warmly.

Savory, musky scents overlaid with the salty tang of blood filled the corner. Barley had returned, carrying a couple of mice and a single chaffinch.

"You look half-starved," meowed the loner critically, concern showing in his twitching whiskers. "Here. Eat, and then we can talk."

"There's not a lot of time," Fireheart interjected. He sat down on his haunches and crouched with the newborn between his paws, curling his tail around its frail body. He had been worried that the kit might not have survived the long journey to the uplands, but his theory about his kittypet kin being strong seemed true. He opened a remarkably pink mouth and trembled, nestling deeper into his ginger fur.

Fireheart lifted his head and directed his next words to both loner cats. "Can you help us? We need to find a nursing queen, and fast."

"Can't ThunderClan look after him?" Barley asked curiously. His quickness seemed based off of concern rather than hostility. It occurred to Fireheart that Barley was always able to be counted on for honesty and loyalty than anything else. _A true friend._

He dropped the fresh-kill into a small pile and scraped hay over it. "I don't know," Barley admitted slowly. "You still haven't told us why..."

"This must come first. Please," Graystripe begged, his yellow eyes desperate. "We'll tell you, but right now this kit needs milk."

"You've come far, then?" Ravenpaw meowed.

"Directly from the camp," Fireheart answered.

Silence fell over the small band of cats, until Barley broke it with a single word: "Violet."

"Who?" Fireheart turned his green gaze onto the muscular loner, who shook his head slowly, his eyes narrowed in deep, foggy thoughts.

"My sister." Barley's eyes glassed over with pain and sorrow as he spoke: "I was forced to separate with her seasons ago. I left her in the care of a kittypet named Fuzz and his Twoleg, who seems to be an equivalent to your medicine cat. I had my leg healed by him." He twitched his back leg, his voice growing weaker as the loner was lost down the trail of his mysterious memories and past. "One night, I came back to find her prisoner. I had broken the rules. I had defied my leader, and I paid the price. She nearly died at my own brothers' claws."

Ravenpaw stood so suddenly that Fireheart jumped; in an instant the black tomcat had pressed himself in support against Barley's flank, mewing words of comfort, while Barley trembled. It felt like he was intruding on something private that was better left untapped; seeing the loner cat in such a state of pathetic sadness momentarily drove his crisis out of his mind. Fleetingly Fireheart thought of Princess, his own kittypet sister, safe and tucked away in her nest by the woods.

"You have brothers?" Graystripe whispered.

Barley nodded, his glazed eyes seeping wet. "They are no kin of mine," he rasped angrily.

"I've known for some time," Ravenpaw added hastily. "Being denmates, we've told each other a lot. Tigerclaw's name has come up a few times, too."

Fireheart shifted his gaze from Barley to Ravenpaw. Meeting Graystripe's eyes, he saw his own shock and empathy mirrored there. Graystripe shifted.

"I'm so sorry," the gray warrior mewed, his eyes as round as full moons. "I never knew..."

Fireheart had always counted on the loner as a friend. "Friends" were not just there for the support and through the hard times; they told each other things, and seeing how little Fireheart knew about Barley, he felt self-betrayed and shunted sideways. He had hardly known him at all with this new information thrust under his face, and felt as much bitter resentment and confusion as he did comfort: That Barley had chosen to reveal what was obviously such a tender memory meant he had earned his trust. _Perhaps moons ago I did..._

Barley shook his head as if to clear it. Shaking cobwebs of the past from his mind, the black-and-white loner stood. "If I ask her, Violet might look after the kit." He glanced at him again warily. "I'll go at once. I should be back by dawn."

"Thank you, Barley," Fireheart meowed gratefully, as he touched noses with the loner. "If there's ever anything I can do, name it, and I will."

"Take care, little one," Graystripe breathed as he gave the tiny white kit a lick. He mewled, flashing tiny teeth; he was a few good moons away from weaning. Fireheart watched as Barley scooped him up as quick as a flash, bounding for the exit to the barn.

As Barley bent low to squeeze through the gap he oddly stopped, hitched himself backwards and spun around to face Fireheart. "Does he have a name?" came the unexpected question.

"Er." If he was being honest with himself, Fireheart had never really thought of a name until just now. He would have expected Bluestar to welcome him with a Clan name. . . Anger made Fireheart unsheathe his claws and scrape them over the wooden floor, furious with his leader, with himself, with StarClan...

He was not only endangering himself, but running his treachery deeper by entwining the kit's fate with Graystripe, Silverstream and her kits, and Ravenpaw and Barley's outset lives away from the forest.

With a swish of his tail the young kittypet stalked over and stared down at the white kitten. If he had been warrior born, a queen would have ended his name with 'kit', like tradition dictated them to. For a moment he crouched beside the kit and loner, uncertainty and curiosity mingling with his waning dread. How did she-cats and toms choose what to name their sons and daughters?

His own naming ceremony flooded back like a tidal wave, engulfing him with days that seemed to exist in another cat's lifetime. Happiness tipped his paws like a warm newleaf day, and he purred. His leader and named him for looking like "a brand of fire". What did his nephew look like?

_He looks like a cloud_, Fireheart decided, surveying the fluffy white kit that mewled inquiringly. He batted out a tiny paw and make a grabbing motion for Fireheart's nose, those uncertain, blue eyes twinkling like pale sapphires.

Fireheart picked himself up off the ground gingerly and turned to look at Barley. "Cloudkit," he answered, dipping his head. "For his fur." _And named just as I was._ The thought that they now shared a similar connection made him feel more akin to the tiny kitten than he had hours ago, when Princess had laid him at his paws.

The only part that numbed him as he watched Barley slip through the gap and out of sight with Cloudkit was that his sister had intended his nephew as his apprentice. How could he ever hope to train Cloudkit if he were to grow up in hostile RiverClan and know only disdain for kittypets, as all forest cats did? Would he grow up with the same prejudice hate for kittypets when he was one himself?

"Fireheart?"

Ravenpaw's mew vanished away these sickening notions. Gradually the flame-coated warrior forced himself to turn around. Both of his friends were watching him carefully, as if anxious of him striking out at them.

"Are you okay? You look terrible," Graystripe meowed bracingly.

Ravenpaw beckoned with his tail. "Come share some fresh-kill," he purred. "Let's not let Barley's mice go to waste."

Fireheart's insides writhed like maggots, but the tempting, stronger smells of fresh-kill lured him over. He ravenously gulped down one mouse then took another for himself, savoring every greedy bite that flooded through the warm blood and savory flesh. He hadn't realized how hungry he was! The anxiety that had settled itself like a storm cloud in his belly subsided, and a strong sense of victory and relief made his fur finally lay flat.

Ravenpaw took a thoughtful bite into his own prey, swishing his tongue around his muzzle to take off the last traces of his meal. The black loner stretched.

"Now," he meowed, resting his curious gaze on Fireheart. "Tell me what this is all about. You owe me an explanation."

Like Barley, Ravenpaw seemed to share the same guarded, wary expression his denmate had when he offered the travelers shelter. His white-tipped tail flicked uneasily, as if he didn't want to hear the truth, but rather was forcing himself. This seemed like a relic of the old Ravenpaw, jumpy, irritable and suspicious.

Fireheart glanced uneasily at his best friend. Revealing the full extends of their plan would mean having to fill in Graystripe' part about his forbidden love, Bluestar's moment of extreme passion, StarClan's omen, Tigerclaw... so much had happened that it gushed like a dark, frothing torrent of water.

How much would Ravenpaw understand, anyway? His other best friend had abandoned Clan life to enjoy living alone. Again, anger gushed through Fireheart, a pain that seared far worse than any set of fangs. _Tigerclaw made you leave ThunderClan_, he thought sourly. He ignored the drop of admiration that made him remember how smoothly the dark-hearted tabby had accomplished all of this, every paw step that led to murder, death, exiling an apprentice, crippling an innocent apprentice, blinding a leader who had always been great in his eyes...

Nothing seemed to make much sense, other than Fireheart's rebellion to struggle against this injustice.

_We're friends_, he decided in a sudden rush. Ravenpaw would understand, _even if I didn't_, he added with the bitter taste of this knowledge hitting the roof of his mouth.

With slow, unsteady breaths, Fireheart launched into the beginning of his story, starting with an unwise expedition along the river's edge in search of prey for the elders. The whole time Ravenpaw gaped at him with his jaw open in a comical O. From time to time Fireheart traded off his story with Graystripe, his friend retelling the past few weeks of their lives, every tiny little step that sprang into this being, here and now, a leaf-bare gale raging outside the barn on the edge of WindClan territory.

Ravenpaw's eyes seemed to bug with every new sentence until he thought they might simply fall out of Ravenpaw's head. It ended with Fireheart as he recapped the final bit: "...and after Graystripe proposed the idea, we headed for your barn. Apparently a lot of the Clan are supportive of Tigerclaw's choice. It couldn't have been Bluestar's, because she wouldn't have been so ambitious as to sacrifice a kit."

Echoing silence followed the end of their story. Ravenpaw's eyes merely watered, as if he were trying to remember how to blink properly. The black loner sat with his front legs spread apart, as rigid as a log with his green eyes fixed solely on Fireheart. The look was so unnerving that he might have looked away, had he not reminded himself, _It's Ravenpaw, you mouse-brained fool, not some cranky elder! _

Ravenpaw seemed to recover the ability to process thought and emotion, for a blazing terror made him jump to his paws. "Are you out of your _minds_?" he screeched, dismay filling his entire face. The way he began to pace back and forth in front of them like an angry Tigerclaw was so uncanny that Fireheart flinched.

The haunted, hunted look he had worn in the days of his apprenticeship resurfaced more clearly than ever. The black cat seemed at an eternal inner struggle, from time to time giving a distinct mutter. Graystripe drew back each time Ravenpaw brushed past, crouching lower and lower. At last, Ravenpaw seemed to find a grip on himself. Turning to face Graystripe, he meowed, in a constricted sort of voice, "Why. . .why Silverstream, Graystripe? Of all the she-cats to mother your kits, why her?"

Graystripe looked ruffled. "I love her," he answered crisply. "You're taking this as badly as Fireheart did," he added in a deeply hurt voice, giving Fireheart an accusing look.

"I forgave you," Fireheart reminded him with a firm edge to his mew. Graystripe cautiously shook his head, as if try to shake water out of his ears.

"Please," he meowed pleadingly to Ravenpaw, "spare me the talk. I know what I did, and I'm proud of it. RiverClan will be receiving beautiful kits, and when Cloudkit is ready to join them, that tallies up one more."

Suddenly all the energy seemed to be squashed out of Ravenpaw, as if he had been suffocated by a heavy rock. The former ThunderClan apprentice slipped up and pressed his flank against Graystripe's, looking guilty and calm again.

"I'm sorry," he mewed, his green eyes flickering with a watery glow. "I've forgotten a lot in my time away from ThunderClan. What it must be like to have to suffer like this I cannot imagine."

"So you still miss it?" Fireheart meowed, unable to help himself. "I thought you liked the life of a loner more?"

Ravenpaw gave him a weak smile in return. "I haven't forgotten the Clan that I was born to," he meowed, "and I'll never forget the friends who helped me to safety, or trained with me for three moons. It is simply that the life of a loner suits me better."

The storm had ended. A cold moon approaching full cast its pearly, shining light through the slashes in the roof of the barn. One of these beams struck Ravenpaw's side and caught him half in the shadows, giving him the look of a cat who was halfway into the world of StarClan. Secretly, Fireheart felt hat his friend better played the part of a warrior than he ever would. The loner cat had accepted Graystripe's story and questioned it, then balanced it with reason and compassion very few warriors showed. It struck Fireheart as odd how he had only noticed it just now.

"That's quite a story," Ravenpaw remarked. "It doesn't sound like the ThunderClan I knew. Or what's left of it, by the way you described some of the cats."

Fireheart gave a despairing sigh. "What's biting my skin is _why_ StarClan would do such a thing. That sounds easily like what Tigerclaw might try, making sure weak cats died on his way to power—"

Graystripe gave his shoulder a hard nudge and pointed with his tail. Puzzled, Fireheart followed in that direction and gazed into Ravenpaw's face. He looked terrified. Cottoning on, Fireheart quickly steered his bitter resentment away from that general area of the conversation and tackled his next problem: "I suppose the Clan would have accepted that decision easily. It itches my fur though that the omen came at such a moment. I mean, Bluestar read my losing my kittypet collar as a powerful sign of StarClan's approval. What do they have against kittypets now?"

"Perhaps they're as afraid for ThunderClan as we are," guessed Graystripe uncertainly. "Our territory is fairing well, considering that RiverClan has no prey to speak of and ShadowClan was left half-starved after Brokenstar's reign. If they thought we were weak, it could turn into an ugly free-for-all, a decent territory fit for the taking."

As if an afterthought, the big gray cat added, "You really are lucky, Fireheart. I'm not saying that I agree with Bluestar or anything," he added hastily, "but maybe there's some truth to her words. You have no idea how much a lot of cats laughed at the idea of ThunderClan sizing up a kittypet next to forest-born warriors. It was unheard of."

"Well, I think it's disgusting," Ravenpaw meowed suddenly. "Kittypets could be as fit for warrior life as a Clanborn cat could become a loner! Violet was born into a lawless place of blood and battle, and she left for a Twoleg nest and easy comforts, something that you've always rejected. You've proven yourself to StarClan a thousand times over; bringing WindClan home, every mouse or bird brought down. Both of you have," he added, nodding to the two cats sitting before him.

Graystripe sneezed. "Don't count yourself out; you're as worthy as any Clan cat. Though right now I'm not so sure I want StarClan's favors," he meowed disdainfully, crinkling his nose.

Fireheart narrowed his eyes carefully. "It could change," he meowed quickly, suddenly desperate to change the mood. If he shattered both of their faiths then it was his fault. "StarClan might have seen it differently than I did, and had another destiny in mind."

_Destiny_, he reflected silently. _What an odd word_. Was it destiny now that he was here on this listless, snow-covered moorland by twilight because it was always meant to be? Or did StarClan intend it so? Whatever the reason, it puzzled him as much as it tired him out.

Ravenpaw broke these thoughts apart when he meowed unexpectedly, "I'm very sorry to hear about Cinderpaw. She was one of the kits you rescued from ShadowClan, wasn't she?"

"My first apprentice," Fireheart meowed sadly. No matter what any cat would say, he would always blame himself for diverting her restless spirit away from the path of a warrior, by not trying harder to stop her. Who knew? She might have even risen up to deputy or leader status. Her kindness and skills were wasted.

Ravenpaw's next words puzzled him even further when he meowed, "And you said she's learning from Yellowfang now?"

"Learning? Well, no, not exactly..." But now that he thought about it, what else would Cinderpaw do with her time? Unable to sit still, the fluffy gray cat would surely try anything to help her caretaker. For a moment, Fireheart amused himself with the picture Ravenpaw's words painted in his head: The bright young she-cat padding awkwardly in Yellowfang's wake, asking endless questions about different healing herbs and remedial treatments, or which ones best worked on her hind leg. He could almost hear Yellowfang's scathing mew, and the rusty laughter that normally followed her sarcastic comments. His whiskers almost twitched, and a short _mrrow_ of laughter escaped from his throat.

"But _you_ could learn."

"Learn what?" Graystripe echoed, looking equally bemused. "Was that mouse you ate bad or something? Because I think it's gotten to your head, Ravenpaw."

Ravenpaw's ear gave an impatient twitch. "I'm talking about you learning how to help a queen kit," he meowed in exasperation. "You won't be able to have a medicine cat at your side when the time comes, since it's _technically_ against the warrior code."

Now it was Fireheart's turn to be sarcastic. "If you haven't noticed, I'm Fire_heart_," he meowed. "I earned my warrior name already, so I can't exactly go up to Bluestar and demand for apprentice status all over again. I'm sure Tigerclaw _might_ get a little suspicious, but _no one _will definitely notice. They're all too mouse-brained, anyway."

Several heartbeats of quiet thought process followed these words before Graystripe gave a belch of laughter and fell onto his side, his face screwed up with mirth. Ravenpaw suddenly caught Graystripe's fits and let out a _yowl_ that made the mice squeak and scuttle into the dark corners of the Twoleg barn. Even Fireheart's own tail lashed as he too succumbed into gales of carefree _mrrows_. It was a momentary bliss, as if he had snuffed up too much catnip; he felt like he was an apprentice all over again, unburdened with the heavy weight of all the secrets he knew and the prophecies that were carried to him as he slept, or Spottedleaf's face, constantly spinning in his mind...

His ribs ached, and grudgingly he hiccuped into silence. Blinking tears out of his cheerful yellow eyes, Graystripe meowed, a bit more seriously, "How would he learn? It's not as if he really can dedicate his whole life to studying plants, or reading the stars and translating omens."

"You don't need to do all of that," Ravenpaw scoffed, waving down the statement with his tail. "It's just learning enough so that the necessary precautions can be obtained. I'm certain that Cinderpaw would love to chat away about healing queens, and you'll be giving her some company too."

"Great," Fireheart meowed, remembering to add this to his agenda. "Then..." His voice faltered hopefully. "Then that's really it?" _Could it actually be _possible_?_

Ravenpaw nodded. "Just make sure that Silverstream gets the same message, and it'll be all upstream from here." He purred warmly. "Want to stay for a while? You both look like you could sleep for a moon. I could rouse you when it's near dawn."

"Thanks, but no," Fireheart meowed, thinking longingly of his own nest. Curling up and falling asleep would be such a relief right now that he almost wailed his longing. "We need to head back to camp; we could also hunt back along the way and say that we were out hunting during the night to find prey to take back to camp."

"Why not take some of the mice here?" Ravenpaw offered. "Being so plump, I'm sure Tigerclaw couldn't possibly object."

"You're forgetting that what we're catching right now is scrawny," Graystripe pointed out dully, eyeing the shadowy crevices of the barn with a wistful gleam. "He would wonder where we had found such plump prey in the middle of leaf-bare."

"Right." Ravenpaw licked his chest fur in embarassment. "Then let me at least see you off as far as the rat ditches."

Fireheart forced an appreciative purr. "I won't forget this," he promised, while Graystripe squeezed through the gap in the wall.

"I'll pass on the news to Barley," Ravenpaw meowed evasively, shrugging. Splinters that ringed the gap in the wall tugged like brambles at his fur as he wriggled out into the snow. "And it isn't a problem. Really."

Fireheart felt more light-hearted than he had in hours, days, really. With speed the three cats launched themselves over the caked moorland, leaving paw prints in their wake as they crunched over the snow. At last a slope in the ground alerted them to the rat ditches. Graystripe opened his mouth and scented the air, looking wary. Beside him, Ravenpaw was snuffling at the fallen powder. "No . . . none around. It's safe to cross."

"We'll be seeing each other again soon, right?" Fireheart mewed cheerfully as he touched noses with the loner.

"I'd bet my life on that—well, not my life, but maybe a few whiskers," Ravenpaw meowed, looking falsely anxious. "Got to watch what I say or I might really tread on mouse dung."

Graystripe's tail curled up in amusement. Fireheart sighed, his gaze drawn to the distant lining of silvery trees that would plunge into RiverClan's heartlands.

"I think we'd better go to Fourtrees first. I don't care if my paws fall off, I'm still taking the long route home rather than taking a dip in the gorge. We'd freeze to death if we fell in!"

"Or drown," Graystripe muttered darkly.

Fireheart blinked, for the first time realizing they were treading a very similar route, a very similar rescue made not even two moons ago. How odd it felt to be back here so soon, when WindClan had been returning to the uplands and Barkface had cast his prediction that another cat would die. Could it be a bad omen to stand here again?

Turning on their paws, the three cats pressed flanks for a moment and stared in a similar direction, their muzzles pointed in the direction of the setting moon. Long shadows of indigo-gray fell over the forest where he belonged. His heart yearned to be there.

Ravenpaw waved his tail. "Good luck, my friends! May StarClan light your path!"

Calling back over his shoulder "Good hunting!" Fireheart and Graystripe pelted over the dip in the moor through WindClan territory.

* * *

**Born into despair**,

By the time Fireheart and Graystripe pushed their way back into the camp dawn had come. Pink-ridged beyond Highstone's peaks, a warm, orange glow bathed the bare clearing. The snow had struck hard here too. Everywhere there were cats' paw prints in the sleet. Warriors buzzed around Tigerclaw as he called commands over their heads.

"Darkstripe, lead the dawn patrol! Whitestorm, Mousefur, I want this territory combed between the both of your hunting parties! ThunderClan won't be going hungry tonight." His amber-eyed gaze dropped when he saw Fireheart approach the small crowd, three mice and a shrew swaying from his jaw. Graystripe also had the catch of a single, unlucky rabbit and two squirrel.

"Well, well." Tigerclaw swished his tail over the carpet of snow as he padded forward to meet them. Runningwind and Longtail drew back as he brushed past. "You certainly took a long time to get back, kittypet. I had begun to think you might have returned to Twolegplace," he drawled.

Fireheart dropped his prey sloppily at the great tabby's paws, scarlet drops of blood spattering the snow where it was thinnest. "We thought a bit of hunting would be good for the Clan," he meowed evenly, swallowing his temper.

Tigerclaw raised his head and swivelled it around like an owl, to look into the curious eyes of his audience. The great tabby lowered his voice to a husky growl. "Didn't see that scrawny little fluff ball, though," he sneered. "I suppose that you weren't the only ones out hunting last night. The foxes got richer pickings than you ever will. Or maybe you didn't see him because of his white coat. I'd check your pads; you might have walked on him by accident."

Fireheart unsheathed his claws, and beside him Graystripe gave a warning hiss. He lowered his voice. "At least when I kill a cat it's always an accident. Though I suppose you can't exactly say the same thing, can you, Tigerclaw?"

Tigerclaw barred his teeth and took several dangerous steps forward, until Fireheart could feel the deputy's rancid breath buffeting his face like a hot wind.

"Bluestar may have thought you were a good little warrior," he snarled, "but you should watch your step around me. I'm not stupid."

"That's new to me," snapped Fireheart. He didn't know what had driven him to provoking the Clan's most senior warrior, but it felt exhilarating to be able to use the deputy as an outlet for his loathing.

Spinning on his paws, Fireheart whisked around and headed in the direction of the warriors' den, blinded by his upsurge. He didn't get far, however, when a menacing voice called him back: "Have you seen your leader's face recently?"

"Ignore him," Graystripe warned in a low undertone. "He's just riling you up." But curiosity got the better of him.

Fireheart slowly looked back over his shoulder. Dustpaw and Whitestorm's hindquarters were already vanishing into the gorse tunnel, but Bluestar had paused to linger. Apparently the she-cat hadn't been entirely deaf to Tigerclaw's words, for she was staring across the snowy clearing directly at her former apprentice. She seemed to teeter on the verge of speech, her blue eyes watching Fireheart with unmasked desperation and disappointment. Shaking her silvery head, the blue-gray queen turned and followed after her fellow warriors out into the ravine.

* * *

**My friend, you've walked,**

The days leading up to the Gathering seemed to be supercharged with tension in the air, going at an even slower pace than possible. It was now common gossip that Bluestar would be directly challenging ShadowClan and RiverClan's leaders about allowing their warriors to hunt on their territory. Fireheart didn't greet the idea with the same enthusiasm as his Clanmates, but rather anxiety. He wanted to talk with Silverstream again and learn of her consent in the plan, but with warring Clans that would be near impossible.

Graystripe, keeping his promise, had resumed a more dedicated role as a mentor to Brackenpaw, giving Fireheart time to divide his free time between Cinderpaw, worrying, hunting, worrying, and, oddly enough—_Bluestar_.

Since the Clan meeting a quarter moon ago his leader seemed to be spending increasing amounts of time with the flame-coated warrior. Wether it was taking up a hunting mission with him near the Owl Tree (as ShadowClan scent was frequently found there again) or patrolling the Sunningrocks (RiverClan cats had slaughtered more woodland prey on the sun-bake stones), she rarely left his side. Though they hardly spoke, there was an uncomfortable silence between the two cats. Seemingly feeling bad for sentencing his kin to 'death', Bluestar was making an extra effort to patch up the hostility that had formed when she bent to StarClan's will. Fireheart forgave a little more easily than he forgot, however, and tended to give her looks rather than answer with the respect cats under higher hierarchy deserved. Bluestar never contradicted him for his rudeness.

This sapped up all of his time and energy. With his extra outings, and under Tigerclaw's strict new policy on storing up on reserve fresh-kill, he barely managed to slip in and give Cinderpaw a visit. Crucial it was to carefully excrete lessons on healing pregnant queens, this both helped Fireheart prepare for Silverstream's own kitting and give Cinderpaw something to do. On a rare, Bluestar-free morning, the day before the Gathering he slipped out of the bush that bordered the nettle patch. Ducking underneath the overhanging branches, he emerged from his den after a night yielding poor sleep.

Quietly he slipped across the clearing, studying the fading star-strewn skies of Silverpelt. Careful to not rouse any other cats he made his way toward the dead fern-enclosed clearing. He was relieved when he heard a familiar, mischievous voice meow, "These taste awful!"

"Then eat them quickly, or you'll only have to savor the taste longer." That was Yellowfang.

Fireheart called out a greeting, and when an answering, "Come in," came from the other end of the tunnel he bounded eagerly into the clearing.

A bundle of fluffy gray fur covered him with delighted purrs and licks, momentarily obscuring his vision. Over Cinderpaw's head he saw Yellowfang distinctly roll her eyes.

"She never stops jabbering," the medicine cat sighed, shaking her head. "It's like living with a nest full of sparrows. Every time you kill one nestling another hatches out, and it starts all over again..."

Cinderpaw threw Yellowfang a rueful look. "I thought you said you were too deaf to hear me?" she teased, and Fireheart was relieved to hear the playful tone in her lively meow.

"Oh, the pair of you, grow up!" she growled, flattening her ears to her patchy head. "You're embarassing me and my Clan. Thank StarClan I wasn't born here. Then I'd have to admit being related to this ragtag group!"

Fireheart knew Yellowfang too well to take her seriously.

Instead, he glanced at the herbs Yellowfang had been tempting Cinderpaw into eating. "What are those?"

"It's crow-food in plant form," Cinderpaw explained sagely, nodding. "Medicine cats feed it to their innocent, clueless patients to extend the suffering..." With a dramatic moan the gray she-cat flopped onto her back and pawed the air, reminding Fireheart strongly of Cloudkit.

"I think I can see StarClan now . . ."

Yellowfang snorted, circling impatiently around the young cat. "You're lucky you _didn't_ see your warrior ancestors at all," the she-cat growled. "Or rather lucky _they_ didn't see _you_. They probably would have sent you back to me right away, to punish me with an endless stream of chatter; that is, until I got too old to feed you _crow-food_ in _plant form_."

Cinderpaw gave a _mrrow_ of laughter, her tail lashing high in the air. Gritting her teeth, his apprentice managed to pull herself into a sitting position and shake snow clumps impatiently from her pelt.

Yellowfang gave Fireheart an annoyed look. "Apprentices," the medicine cat meowed woefully. "Even the warriors act like them! I can never seem to escape."

Giving her unkempt, matted gray pelt a brisk shake, Yellowfang began to pad through the tunnel, brushing her tail against Fireheart's flank along the way. "I'm going out into the forest," called Yellowfang. "I need to get away from the suffering patient long enough to clear my head and gather some comfrey root. Try having her do some exercises, won't you, Fireheart?"

"Sure thing," Fireheart meowed.

"You'll know if she's doing them right," she tacked on, "because she'll complain!"

Cinderpaw's eyes glimmered with enthusiasm as she settled into an uncomfortable-looking crouch. "It's great to see you again."

"I like visiting you," the warrior answered. "I miss our old training sessions." He regretted the words the moment he uttered them.

A wistful look gleamed in her remarkably blue eyes, Frostfur's double. "Me too," Cinderpaw breathed, doing her little paw-flick as she attempted to wash her mangled hind leg with her claws. "StarClan, this is awful, I can hardly reach it."

"Can I help?" Fireheart offered awkwardly, keen to give her any reason to tread out of such dangerous water.

Cinderpaw glanced up, evidently surprised. "Thanks!" she mewed, thinking nothing of it. "It's been _itching_ for days..."

Heaving himself to his paws, Fireheart slowly padded over and bent down beside his apprentice. As he helped groom a burr out of her twisted hind leg he began thinking. "Maybe an exercise would loosen it up?"

"But why loosen it up?" she meowed seriously, thought her twinkling eyes contradicted her. "When I have such an efficient washer already?"

Fireheart flattened his ears and gave a stern growl. "How about showing some respect?" he half-joked. "I am your mentor, after all."

"O, yes, great warrior," Cinderpaw mocked. She ducked her head. "Sorry, Fireheart."

This took him aback; he'd only been joking, when her reply sounded completely mollified and reasonable.

"Take a joke," he meowed, "and start those exercises."

Cinderpaw snorted and tossed back her head. "Only because you asked _so politely_, and Yellowfang would never stop treading on my tail."

Gingerly she rolled onto her side and began to stretch out her bad leg as far as it would go, taking it back and forward with painful faces. The looks guiltily made Fireheart think that she had maggot-gut, a joke Graystripe had used so long ago.

Panting, the breathless Cinderpaw resumed an awkward sitting position, obviously too strained to continue. After a few heartbeats of silent thought she meowed, "I'm never going to be a warrior, am I?"

For a moment a hopeless, melancholy feeling of regret drowned him. He waded out of his own pain, however, and instead of wallowing in it answered truthfully. "No," he rasped, knowing she'd never accept his lie if he had the heart to avoid her question. "I'm so sorry."

Cinderpaw's eyes clouded, and the dull feeling in Fireheart's chest became more pronounced than ever.

"I knew it, really," she meowed to herself, glancing up into the clear, cloud-tossed sky. "It was so weird, as if waking up from a dream. I have no recollection of anything other than this incredible pain in my back leg. So it wasn't like I had a choice; it's like going blind, being forced to adapt to something I didn't want, couldn't control..." Cinderpaw's voice trembled. "I a-always dreamt of running over the pine needles and spruce leaves, with you and Graystripe and Brackenpaw and all my Clanmates at my side. What Frostfur once said, it's true, you know: 'The strength and the fellowship of the Clan will always be with you, even when you hunt alone.'"

As sharp as the cat scents around him, those very word floated back from many moons before, when Bluestar had spoken them to him as a kittypet. Fireheart swallowed, fighting against the crashing weight of overwhelming guilt and choked emotions.

"We'll find the slowest mouse in the forest," he vowed, trying to smile. His jaw felt cracked, as if his muscles were unfamiliar with ability. "It won't stand a chance against you."

Cinderpaw brightened. "Thanks, Fireheart," she meowed gratefully, escaping from her reverie.

Other thoughts pushed their way into Fireheart's mind. "Can you remember the accident?" he prompted gently. "Was Tigerclaw there?"

Cinderpaw shook her head, her eyes wide with confusion. "I d-don't know," she stammered, flinching away from the memory. "I remember following his scent directly below the burnt ash, onto the verge...there was this blinding flash... I remembered the smell you taught me when we first toured ThunderClan territory. It fell over me, I turned onto the Thunderpath, and—"

Evidently she had either drawn to the black in her memories before falling unconscious, or couldn't continue on low morale and fear alone. Fireheart felt sickened, but not at the memory her mangled blood-soaked body had been forever imprinted in his mind's eye, but at the fact it hadn't been prevented. _Tigerclaw should have been there_. His temper, always close to the surface these days, took a reasonable amount of effort to control.

Princess's ominous words rang in his ears.

"_Was it a trap?_"

The answer wafted tantalizingly in front of his nose before being snatched off by some dark presence. Fireheart shivered.

Keen to change the subject, he meowed, "Does Yellowfang keep you busy?"

"Busy?" Cinderpaw snorted; she too looked relieved to be getting on with news. "That's her word for 'I-have-nothing-better-to-do-with-my-life.' She's had me memorizing every single berry in her den and all of the remedies, poultices, pulps, mixes and herb techniques. Mind you, I'm still learning lots."

She gave a dramatic moan and flopped onto her back once more. "Suffering can do a cat good."

Fireheart rolled his green eyes, cheered by her outburst of lively spirit and enthusiasm. "I had it worse off," he scoffed with an overly-airy twitch of his whiskers. "When I was your age I had to look after her all on my own. Bring her food, change her soiled bedding, attend to her every need... sure is nice being a _warrior_ though." He flicked his tail in fake smugness and lingered on the word.

"Cheeky tomcat," Cinderpaw groaned, rolling onto her belly with a grunt of effort. "You can't really learn stuff from _feeding_ her, compared to the way I am. Let me _show_ you."

The gray she-cat heaved herself to her paws and wobbled toward the cleft in the rock face where Yellowfang lived and worked. Passing the fallen log, she called over her shoulder, "Wait right here!" and vanished beyond his range of sight, lichen brushing over her spine.

Fireheart arranged himself into a careful crouch, sincerely interested. Ravenpaw's advice still called out to him like the tendrils of a fading dream: "It's just learning enough so that the necessary precautions can be obtained."

Before he could ponder anymore on these troublesome thoughts a new noise roused his curiosity: Cinderpaw was shoving herbs out of the den with her paws. Neatness was apparently not a cause for celebration, as she was making a mess of leaves and flower petals in her wake as she tried to move them from the den. Her mouth was filled to the brim with a bundle of hairy dark-veined leaves, which explained her attempts to push the rest out.

"Let me help," Fireheart offered, leaping to his paws. As he bent over to nip up a dark scarlet-red berry Cinderpaw spat the leaves she had been carrying out of her mouth; yowling, "No!" with a well-aimed swipe of her paws she knocked the berries under the shelter of a fern. Fireheart jumped back in surprise. Cinderpaw rounded on him with her blue eyes bulging fearfully.

"Did you touch it?" she demanded sharply.

"N-no," stammered Fireheart, feeling wrong-footed. Where had his lively apprentice from seconds before gone? "Okay, I get it, you_ don't_ want help..."

"Yew," Cinderpaw meowed.

"Me what?"

"Not 'you', yew!" Cinderpaw snapped, shaking her fluffy gray head. "It's called deathberry because of the poison it drips with. One berry could kill a kit without immediate treatment. A few eaten by a warrior would mean instant death."

"Oh." Fireheart's ears laid back. "Oh..." He gave a feeble mew and shivered, realizing how close he had come to trying to pick them up with his mouth.

"Thank StarClan, you're a lucky tom," Cinderpaw rasped, giving his ears a quick lick. "No damage done, so you don't have to look like that."

Fireheart gave his chest fur a quick lick to hide his trembling whispers. Upon looking up, the ginger warrior asked cautiously, "If they're so poisonous, then why does Yellowfang keep them?"

Cinderpaw shrugged, bemused. "For emergencies, apparently," she mewed, looking away.

Surprised flashed through Fireheart. What healing purposes did the killing berries serve, if they couldn't be eaten? Before his thoughts could probe along that trail Cinderpaw's voice reluctantly dragged him back: "You said you wanted to see some of the herbs, right?"

"What?" Fireheart blinked in confusion. "Oh, yes! Of course."

"Mouse-brain," she sighed. "I didn't go through all this trouble for nothing." Indicating with her tail to the mis-matched veined leaves, Cinderpaw explained, "This is borage. It brings out milk in nursing queens. Yellowfang said it is incredibly bitter tasting."

She then nudged a wad of soaked moss and mewed, "Yellowfang always asks warriors to spare her the leftovers of their mice when they're done, so that she can extract some mouse-bile from the pouches in their stomachs. It's a useful tick remover. You should know, having to care for Yellowfang for a whole moon."

Fireheart's whiskers twitched. "Go on," she encouraged her, taking in everything she told him.

"Thyme is excellent for calming nerves in almost every case and easing up cramps and pain," Cinderpaw added, poking at a round-flowered plant with a heavy scent that reminded Fireheart of catnip.

"But wouldn't poppy seeds be better?" he wondered, thinking how the tiny black kernels could easily dispel pains and cramps. He didn't add his last choice words, _For nursing queens_, in case he gave too much away.

"Poppy isn't recommended for she-cats expecting kits or nursing them. They need to be able to feel the pain in order to know how hard they need to push."

"Oh."

"Juniper is great when you can't breathe or have a bellyache," Cinderpaw recited off of the top of her head speedily, "dried oak leaves stop infection, feverfew and lavender can both cool fevers or chills, and..." She stopped and gave him a thoughtful look. "Why so suddenly interested?"

Fireheart quickly settled his bristling fur. Trying to make a passable look of surprise, he shot back, "Look who actually listens to Yellowfang! You're the one telling me all of this stuff."

Cinderpaw blinked in wonder and awe. "I guess you are right," she mewed, sounding whole-heartedly surprised at her own behavior.

"How she can get you to sit still and listen is beyond me," Fireheart meowed inquiringly. "You never payed attention when we went training."

Cinderpaw spit mischievously. "Not that I can really go off chasing hedgehogs, but my leg keeps me from moving around a lot," she retorted. "So it helps to suffer for my knowledge."

Fireheart couldn't resist. "You shrewd little—"

"Fireheart?"

Fireheart held back a groan he was afraid might have escaped his throat. A pair of gray-blue shoulders followed the head that joined with Bluestar's torso, peering expectantly out of the fern tunnel. "I want a word with you," she addressed him without even a greeting.

Reluctantly Fireheart stood. Though Cinderpaw's gaze flooded with admiration Fireheart couldn't help but feel his pelt prickle with frustration. What could be so important that she had to chase after him this early in the morning?

"See you later, Cinderpaw," Fireheart meowed as he grudgingly ducked underneath the bristly ferns. They scratched at his pelt as he pushed out into clearing. Golden sunlight struck the damp camp. Though the snow here had vanished under the sun's constant glare, in the shelter of the forest trees it ran rampant.

Bluestar sat by the entrance to the camp, shuffling her paws anxiously over the ground, as if desperate to get going. Fireheart knew better, however; she was feeling awkward in his presence and was probably hoping to get it over with as badly as he did. It was her_ duty _to her Clan to mold old ties back together and forge a bond with all ThunderClan members: Thus, they lived in each others' shadows day and night.

He padded over to her and met her gaze with a blaze of challenge. Bluestar flicked an ear uncomfortably.

"You'll be coming to the Gathering tonight," she mewed.

Surprised, the orange tomcat kept his paws rooted to the spot. If it had been only to inform of that then why had she dragged him away?

His other question was answered as Bluestar added, "I also want you for a morning hunting patrol."

"Just the two of us?" Fireheart asked, praying that she would give the answer other than the one he dreaded.

"Just us," echoed Bluestar quietly. The disappointment must have shown on his face because the Clan leader snapped, "It's nearing sunhigh; we can't spend all day doing nothing, Fireheart! There are cats to be fed and borders to be patrolled."

Her iciness stung him as much as it repelled him. Fireheart tried to shrug indifferently and instead settled for a cool stare. "Right," he mewed.

Without hesitation she sprang to her paws and charged through the gorse tunnel. More scratches added themselves to the collection on Fireheart's pelt as brambles snagged on his fur.

"Where are we going?" he called after her, wincing, as the last few twigs snapped him in the face. He made a mental note to boss the apprentices around later—Dustpaw especially—and have them shave down the gorse tunnel until cats could get through _without_ hurting themselves.

"We'll be hunting our way up to the sandy hollow," Bluestar answered curtly. "From there we shall be joining Tigerclaw, Whitestorm and Darkstripe to oversee a fighting assessment."

_Being in the company of three cats I really want to see fall over a cliff right now is going to do my stress wonders. Really, no problems here_, Fireheart snarled silently. They kept walking along the once-leafy trail that led to the stream and training hollow. Fireheart topped this sentence off with all the curses that occurred to him. _Mouse-brained, feather-headed, fox-hearted, mangepelt..._

"Be careful!" snapped Bluestar, as Fireheart accidentally bumped into her from behind. She gave him a piercing glare over her backside. "What has gotten you so distracted that you can't even see where you're..."

Bluestar's mouth gaped open in a defiant, frozen look. Her sentence died away so that the blue-gray queen didn't dare utter another word but merely looked sickened with herself. Fireheart felt a nerve snap somewhere in the back in his mind.

"Lost any kits recently?" he meowed bitterly, bile rising in his throat. Bluestar's eyes widened slightly and she shook her broad head. Why was there a reminiscent gleam there?

Fireheart merely barred his teeth and brushed past her, slumping ahead north-westward in the direction of Fourtrees. "I'll see you at sunhigh," he meowed as calmly as he could. His legs were trembling with rage.

A final glance back at Bluestar told him all that she was feeling. A storm of anger and guilt were battling at their strongest elements, gushing off her pelt like waves: the respect Bluestar felt that her warriors should show her, and the desperation of succumbing to the will of her Clan and the heavenly one above.

Snow crunched under Fireheart's aching pads as he bounded past the stalks of leaf-bare trees. Heart thumping, the kittypet skidded to a halt somewhere in a shaded clearing where the surrounding branches were at its thickest. Beyond the thistle thickets and bushes he could hear Twoleg monsters rumbling up and down the Thunderpath at intervals. _I must have put a good distance between us,_ he thought determinedly. _Time to hunt._

Fireheart perked his ears and willed himself to fall silent. Despite the muffle the carpet of fresh snow caused, he could still detect the faint scurrying of smaller paws. Blinking, the flame-pelted warrior felt the frantic beating of a nearbye thrush propelled to him through the ground. He could hears it wings rustle. Crouching, he skulked light-footed a few tail-lengths until a few strands of grass poking through the snow tickled his nose. He held back a sneeze, now trying to pinpoint his prey.

Without realizing he was there the thrush continued poking around the roots of a beech tree for nuts or insects. Fireheart balanced his weight and prepared to spring forward and capture the unwary prey beneath his claws.

A rustle in the heather clumps behind him caused the thrush to spread its wings and take off, setting off an alarm call all the prey between Fourtrees and the Sunningrocks would hear. Bunching his muscles as much as possible he sprang. His outstretched paws brushed its tail feathers before he hit the ground chest-first.

Blind anger made Fireheart's tail bristle. He spun on his paws noisily and whipped his head around, catching the outline of something large pushing its way through the foliage, away from him. For a moment Fireheart's fury was gilded by surprise, too. _Go catch your own prey!_ he thought, sheathing his claws, expecting to catch a flit of Bluestar's scent in the brush...

It never came. The snowfall around him masked its scent almost completely, but the outline of the animal he had seen was definitely a cat. The blood in his ears pounded like a torrent of gushing water. _Is it a ShadowClan warrior? Had Tigerclaw been right after all?_

If they attacked him he would be outnumbered if its friends were near. Bluestar was too far away to call to help for now that he had put so much space between them. And if she heard him, it might be too late...

Terror made him shiver.

"I've got to make the first move," Fireheart decided in a quiet undertone. "It hasn't seen me yet."

Scent alone told him the cat had moved ahead, drawing nearer to the Thunderpath. Light as a leaf he snaked through a shortcut to cut the cat ahead of him off. Musty odors drifted off the ice-layered road; Fireheart paused, lowering his stiff body below a few fern clumps. He could see the black cat now, small and agile, picking its way cautiously over the snow with its mouth open in excitement. Fireheart braced himself before he sprang through the bushes and took the cat full pelt.

The pair tussled over the snow, Fireheart breathing heavily and pausing to draw in breath and caterwaul. His opponent seemed more out of shape, so he theorized it might have been a rogue, not a seasoned warrior. The cat clinging to his back writhed as Fireheart dislodged the black tom, using his body weight to throw him off. Limp, the other tomcat fell into the slush. Fireheart planted unsheathed claws on his attacker's chest and glared down into the bedraggled face, taken aback completely after he met the loner's green eyes. A white crest of fur tipped his opponent's chest.

"_Ravenpaw?_"

"It's nice to see you too," Ravenpaw grunted. Where claw had met skin above his left eye a thin drop of blood was trickling down his muzzle. "You've raked me to shreds."

Fireheart sheathed his claws. "Sorry," he apologized hastily, still completely bewildered.

"You great lump! Off, please!"

Fireheart shook snow from his pelt as he clambered off more gently this time. Ravenpaw sat up, looking like he had white speckles all over his dark coat.

"You look like you were caught in a snowstorm," joked Fireheart.

Ravenpaw stretched a hind leg stiffly. "It felt like it," the black cat agreed. He blinked warmly up at his friend. "Thank StarClan it was you who attacked me, and not Darkstripe or Tigerclaw. I was so nervous of setting paws here in case another cat spotted me. Being black, I don't really blend in, do I? I'm supposed to be dead too. Cats might get sort of jumpy if they saw me."

Fireheart gaped. "Why_ are _you here?" he asked uncertainly, wondering if it was bad news about Cloudkit. Violent shivers made his fur stand on end.

Ravenpaw quickly shook specks of frost off of his pelt. Freezing droplets still clung to the end of his long whiskers. "Everything's fine, I'm just passing on news," the loner answered calmly.

Fireheart dropped all pretenses. "So Cloudkit's okay?" he meowed anxiously, his belly tightening.

"Still as cute as can be," Ravenpaw promised. The black cat's whiskers twitched in amusement. "Violet has been nursing him. She's taking on to him well and glad to help out a friend. I've been wanting to pass on this message for a few days, and I didn't know wether to wait until I saw a patrol or go directly into Thunder—"

"Wait, wait, _wait_," Fireheart interrupted, lashing his tail over his friend's mouth momentarily. "What do you mean by 'a few days'?"

"I forgot," Ravenpaw mewed absently while shaking his sleek, compact head. "I've been camping out at Fourtrees for four sunrises now on this side of the hollow. Today I felt a bit more bold and ventured nearer to the Thunderpath to keep an eye out for you."

_If Tigerclaw saw you, he'd never think you were his former apprentice_, Fireheart thought. The black cat who had once been his denmate had evolved not only in looks, but personality too. When he had faced the whole of WindClan he hadn't even flinched; but actually daring to counter cats from his former Clan just to deliver a message? Gratitude warmed his weighed-down heart and lifted his spirits rather dramatically.

"Thank you," Fireheart purred, quickly scenting the air. The rank odors of the Thunderpath drowned most other smells. "But you should be more careful! If you had stayed any longer after midnight you would have had a rather rude awakening—tonight is the Gathering!"

"What?" Ravenpaw's fur bristled. "_Mouse-dung_! I haven't looked up at the moon to check its phase in so long; not since I left ThunderClan, anyway. Then I better get going. Oh!" His green eyes widened. "I've got another message to pass on to you from Silverstream."

"You've seen Silverstream?" Fireheart meowed in surprise, taken aback.

"Just in passing. I met her near the border, and I can see why Graystripe likes her," Ravenpaw added sleekly. "Beauty, brawn and brain. You don't find a lot of she-cats like that inside or outside the Clans."

"Ignoring that," Fireheart meowed with great restraint in rolling his eyes. "How did she know you were—well, _you_? You're supposed to be dead."

Ravenpaw gave his chest fur a self-conscious lick. "At first she thought I was an enemy warrior. I had to quickly relay everything about you and Graystripe to her while she tried to claw my ears off. But I knew it was her, because before I had caught her on her own a mottled warrior had said, 'I'll meet you by the Twoleg bridge, Silverstream.'"

"Leopardfur," Fireheart gasped, in his mind picturing the golden-tabby deputy. "So what did Silverstream say?"

"First she told me that she was sorry for giving me all of those bites," Ravenpaw meowed half-jokingly. He twisted his side around so that Fireheart could see freshly-healed teeth marks and scratches down one flank. Fireheart winced.

"I may just have to agree with you on the 'tough' part..."

Ravenpaw snorted. "Those muscles aren't for show!" he _mrrowed_, instantly snapping back into a more serious air. "Anyway, I passed on the idea for the plan and she was delighted. She said she'll gladly look after Cloudkit."

Giddy relief made Fireheart loosen himself and stare at Ravenpaw in a dazed, ecstatic sort of way. Cloudkit was actually going to be part of a _warrior_ _Clan_.

"That's great," the flame-coated warrior purred.

"That's not all," meowed Ravenpaw patiently, flicking his tail-tip like a metronome over the snowy ground. "I had also let her know that I was planning to stay until I made contact with you, and Silverstream asked if I could deliver a message."

Fireheart's ears twitched, gazing at him expectantly. "Can I have it, please?"

As if he had learned it by heart, Ravenpaw recited excitedly, "Silverstream told me that she had gone to Mudfur for a check-up, and by the sounds of it she'll be due for her kitting very soon. So in that odd number of days, on the morning—sunhigh, evening, whatever time it may be—she knows that the litter is coming she'll go to Fourtrees. It's your and Graystripe's job to send a runner for me and Barley to fetch Cloudkit while one of you stays behind to help with the kitting, and to keep in contact until it's time. Keep checking with Silverstream so that you'll be ready. On the next day she'll be able to return to the island, making it sound as though her litter had been born outside RiverClan's camp."

Ravenpaw took an unsteady breath after his long speech, looking inquiringly at Fireheart.

"So that's it?" Fireheart asked unsteadily, his brain buzzing with all the new information he had learned like an angry swarm of bees.

"I suppose so," Ravenpaw mused, giving himself a brisk shake. "So I'll be seeing you again soon, I suppose." He smiled. "Take care of yourself."

"You too," Fireheart urged, brushing muzzles with the loner cat. With a departing wave of his tail Ravenpaw retraced his paw steps, calling, "StarClan speed," before disappearing over the rise and back toward WindClan's side of Fourtrees.

* * *

**Into the spider's snare.**

Fireheart squeezed out of a bramble bush just as sunhigh came, dawning a dazzling pale gold that made the snow shimmer. As he impatiently shook slush from his paws and crouched in a more comfortable way, the grass across from him rustled: Out stepped Bluestar, dragging in the snow a scrawny mouse.

For some odd reason Fireheart felt satisfied that he had managed to find better fresh-kill: a single, unlucky wood pigeon and water vole, captured close to the Sunningrocks.

His leader blinked and eyed the prey, looking almost passably hungry before resuming her quiet, uncomfortable, blue-eyed stare.

"...Good hunt?" Bluestar managed to ask after a few seconds of tense silence.

"I suppose so." Fireheart made a meal of giving his ears a brief wash to avoid her penetrating, slightly desperate stare.

For something to do the gray-blue warrior queen began to kick up snow with her back and front paws, scrabbling in the slush until she had dug a pit. With quick pushes the upturned snow fell with a muffled thump over her fresh-kill. Fireheart decided on doing something sensible and began to bury his prey too.

Finished, he sat up again and began to root out clumps of frozen earth between his claws while Bluestar watched with a nervous expression. At last she broke the monotony with an edgy mew: "Before we go to the sandy hollow, I'd like to discuss something with you. What concerns me, Fireheart, is that you haven't made up after your fight with Graystripe. I don't want my Clan fighting each other." The two cats locked eyes.

Fireheart returned her pleading look coldly. "We have," he meowed shortly, pushing himself to his paws. He gave her one final look, feeling all his bitter resentment, despair and anguish flood into his gaze, before uprooting himself and padding into the training area beyond the frozen stream. His shoulders pushed back the ice-encrusted, dying ferns—dying, just like his faith in StarClan, the respect he had once held to almost reverence for his leader, his love for ThunderClan, and everything else . . .


	2. The Longest Prologue: PT 2

**Travel in numbers,**

As the ThunderClan patrol drummed steadily on their ancestors' path to Fourtrees, Fireheart took up the rear. Graystripe dropped back from Willowpelt's side and gave his friend's shoulder a nudge, his yellow eyes blazing with excitement.

"We'll be seeing Silverstream tonight!" Graystripe whispered in a barely audible undertone.

Fireheart, who had been watching his paws, glanced up. "I hope she is coming. Being Crookedstar's daughter doesn't necessarily mean she'll get to go to every Gathering." A cold breeze ruffled his fur. "What else is there to look forward to?"

"ShadowClan," Graystripe explained, tactfully avoiding mentioning RiverClan's intrusions this past moon into their territory. "We'll be seeing those crow-food eaters face-to-face."

"What do you think they will say?" Fireheart wondered curiously. "I hope there won't be a fight."

"But you never know," meowed a new, more ominous voice. Runningwind had slowed his pace until he was evenly matched with the two. Evidently he had not heard the start of their conversation but had been eavesdropping nonetheless.

"Those stinking thieves need to be taught a lesson," meowed Runningwind distastefully, his face screwing up with uncharacteristic ugliness. He spit on the frozen trail underpad. "I'll be glad to meet those cowardly cats who dare don themselves the title 'warrior' in battle. ShadowClan, taking our prey. RiverClan, marking the Sunningrocks as their own."

Fireheart felt Graystripe begin to rise and stifled him with a warning hiss. He understood the gray tom's feelings, his own having been reproved this past moon, but making a scene of it didn't seem smart to do here. Runningwind didn't notice the suspicious sign, but rather had cocked his head to better listen to the hum of conversation below the slope. For the first time since Fireheart had joined ThunderClan Bluestar didn't pause to rally her Clan, but plunged straight down into the clearing with her cats streaming out behind her.

Fronds of bracken fell back as the Clan escaped its hiding place and began to mill about the cold, moonlit clearing. WindClan was the only other representative present.

Scanning the clearing, he spotted Onewhisker's brown head among many other friendly faces. He was tempted to join them but was held back as Graystripe yanked his tail.

"Not just yet," the gray warrior hissed. "Look!"

Pouring down the slope across from the ThunderClan warriors was the whole of ShadowClan, headed by everyone's least-favorite cat, Nightstar. RiverClan followed in Crookedstar's wake as the light-colored tabby thrust a WindClan elder out of the way and made a beeline for the Great Rock.

"If we want to talk to Silverstream, it has to be now," Fireheart pointed out softly, jerking his head to one side.

"Come on. Let's go." Together they slipped between a few ShadowClan apprentices and pushed his way toward the oncoming group of RiverClan cats. Graystripe settled against the underside of one of the great oaks as Fireheart circled around to the back of the patrol, on tenterhooks watching the silvery queen.

A net of other cats, mostly female, surrounded her with looks of sympathy and frustrating concern.

"Are you sure you aren't tired?" meowed one dark queen. "It's a long journey when you're expecting kits."

Silverstream gave her friend an exasperated look. "I'm fine, Greenflower," she assured her calmly, casting Graystripe an annoyed look. "Listen, I have to go...make dirt."

A nearby apprentice let out a squeak of laughter that was instantly stifled from the hiss of a passing gray elder.

Greenflower heaved a long sigh. "You should have gone before we left the camp."

"I didn't have to go _then_," Silverstream meowed in a great impression of annoyance. "What was the point? But I do need to go _now_..."

"Hurry up, then, the meeting will start soon."

"Honestly, the way she talks," Silverstream grumbled as she sloshed over through the snow. "Greenflower's a great mother and everything, but you'd think I was having _her_ kits. Won't leave me be day or night. Such a lovely, sweet-tempered friend."

"Under here," Graystripe breathed, motioning to an overgrown holly bush farther away from the commotion of the Gathering. Wary of attracting eyes, Fireheart checked over his shoulder before following after the other two. He ducked his head and slipped into the cramped space of the snow-covered branches. Another twig poked him roughly in the side.

"StarClan!" the ginger warrior groaned softly, crouching to avoid hitting any more branches. "I think bushes have it in for me. I'm going to start looking like One-eye if I keep getting all these scrapes and bruises."

Silverstream purred her amusement. "How's Cloudkit?" she asked fondly.

Fireheart was relieved to hear how much more friendly she sounded, rather than the same guarded she-cat he had tried to dissuade from meeting Graystripe a moon ago. "Ravenpaw tells me he's getting bigger every day."

"You saw Ravenpaw?" Graystripe gasped. "And you didn't tell me?"

Fireheart blinked, completely bemused. "I'm sorry," he apologized, meaning it. "Today's training session drove it out of my mind. It was this morning after I gave Bluestar the slip while hunting."

Recalling the training session, he thought that Sandpaw had a fair point when she thought that Bluestar needed to up them to warrior status soon. He had watched both fight well and thought they had deserved their names. What amazed him more was how mellow Sandpaw had been than her normal, prickly self. That had given him the spooks. Dustpaw remained on the defensive for the rest of the evening, however, so his mood had been a bit broken when the patrol had left the sandy hollow to prepare for the Gathering.

Graystripe's concern settled. "Oh, well; it's not like we won't be seeing each other again soon." The gray warrior shifted slightly, knocking a clump of snow onto his own head.

"Nice look," Fireheart teased.

"I think it would look better on you," retorted Graystripe, narrowing his eyes playfully.

Silverstream raised a paw absently. "Toms," she meowed in a low, husky voice so as to not be overheard. "Actually, Graystripe," she meowed in a more serious tone, "I think Fireheart makes a fair point: It matches your eyes so well."

Graystripe's whiskers twitched. "It's great to see you again!" he purred, shaking the clump off his head before brushing muzzles with the tabby queen. "How are our kits?" he asked eagerly, eyeing her stomach with mixed curiosity and bemusement.

"Kicking like rabbits, now that you mention it." Silverstream's fur rippled slightly as she stretched. "Mudfur thinks that there may be two—possibly three—kits in there."

For a moment, Fireheart's own gaze was drawn to her belly now swollen with unborn kits. He wondered absently how it would feel to be in Graystripe's paws, knowing that the gray warrior's mate was carrying his future sons or daughters.

As if reading his mind, Graystripe gave an awkward mew. "It's so... I don't know. I guess you need to be a medicine cat to really understand it better." He shrugged.

Silverstream's face contracted with surprise. "And what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

Looking extremely embarrassed, Graystripe turned his head away studying his paws with sudden interest. "I meant that being a she-cat, I guess it's sort of different on the other end of the parenting pool."

Fireheart cuffed the gray cat around the ears. "Stupid furball. You don't see Darkstripe moving into the nursery with extra mouths to feed, do you?"

Graystripe actually had to slap his tail over his muzzle to silence his _mrrows_ of laughter. "I wish!" he mewed, his eyes glowing wistfully in the half-light.

"So how has Crookedstar been?" Fireheart pressed her.

Silverstream's joyful glee misted over with anxiety. "Now that you mention it," whispered the tabby RiverClan warrior, "he was extremely tense coming here tonight. He looked like he had swallowed mouse-bile, and the way Leopardfur kept going on as we were leaving camp... Oh, he's also been really anxious with the lack of decent prey. We're not in completely dire starvation," she assured her mate, but her clouded eyes contradicted her.

"What if we brought you prey?" Graystripe offered instantly. "That way you would have milk for when the kits come—"

"You're not breaking the warrior code just to fatten me up," Silverstream meowed firmly. Fireheart couldn't help but think how ironic it was that these two cats, who had already stepped across the line too far, could worry about the simple matter of sharing prey.

"My Clan has lived through worse conditions. RiverClan shall survive." She licked his ears. "But thank you anyway." Her eyes flickered to the outside of the snow-screened bush. "We should see when the meeting will start."

Fireheart stood. "We'll hear the worst of it soon," he meowed grimly, angling his head out of a gap in the knot of branches. At the base of the Great Rock the leaders were speaking with their own Clanmates, hardly sparing each other looks. "Come on. They should be starting soon."

"It's too cold to hang around tonight," Silverstream added in a low growl, waiting until the two toms had exited the shrub without attracting attention. She crawled out after them and shook shivery droplets of ice-water from her sleek fur. At that moment the four Clan leaders broke up, springing up at intervals to the surface of the sky-framed stone.

"Silverstream?"

Said queen paused to eye Fireheart curiously. Fireheart swallowed, overcome with a jumble of words that he wanted to use to express his gratitude for her willing cooperation, all the effort she had agreed into the plan, everything that had been clogging up his head and filling it like a hole in the ground with overflowing rain.

"Thank you," he blurted out quietly. Silverstream gave him the tiniest of nods to show that she understood, for her eyes gleamed warmly, despite the bitter cold all around them.

"Clans can go to war," she meowed solemnly, "but cats always can help each other."

The pretty queen eyed him for another a moment before flicking her tail and stalking back over to her own Clanmates. Her acting skills were superb, he thought, as she settled between two apprentices without the slightest traces of betraying RiverClan.

Tallstar yowled, and the clearing fell silent. Cats turned their heads moonward; it shone down on the clearing pouring a clear, crystalline shine that touched dark pelts silver and pale-furred cats white.

The WindClan leader stepped forward to speak, and fleetingly the kittypet-turned warrior realized this was the first time he had ever seen him at a Gathering.

"WindClan shall speak first," the black-and-white tom meowed threateningly. "It is what is owed to us, after all."

"'Owed to you'?" Crookedstar snorted, his fur bristling. "I believe RiverClan then stands high above all others on this claim, Tallstar. We lost a warrior, after all."

Bluestar stepped forward aggressively and thrust her muzzle into the pale leader's face. "And why did you lose Whiteclaw to the gorge?"

For those who hadn't known gasps came from the watching cats below. Their eyes flashed eerily all around Fireheart, heads turning back and forth to watch the speakers with repetitive swings.

"Because ThunderClan invaded RiverClan territory!" snarled Crookedstar.

"Because we were taking home a Clan who had lost _their_ home, Crookedstar," Bluestar meowed coolly. "As you know well. This was a mission that we all agreed on in the sight of StarClan."

Crookedstar let out a howl of anger that made Bluestar take a wary step back. The massive warrior spun his head around and whipped it to stare directly at Bluestar so that their noses were only a mouse-length apart.

"Did I agree to let you post your spies on my river?" he shot back unexpectedly. Bluestar's anger was wiped clean off her face with surprise.

"A spy?" she echoed. "No, Crookedstar, my warriors are loyal cats. Perhaps it is you who needs to keep a stronger leash on your warriors. Patrols have scented RiverClan all over the Sunningrocks this past moon. _They are ThunderClan's_."

"You owe me," panted Crookedstar, foam lightly pattering off his twisted muzzle. "Can you reverse death and bring me back the life of a cat your warriors took from my ranks?"

"No one can do that," yowled Halftail from the crowd. There were murmurs of agreement and disagreement from different clusters of cats around the elder. An angry yowl came from close behind Fireheart, and he felt his best friend press his flank against his for mutual comfort.

"Then at least keep your filthy paws off my territory!" Crookedstar spat.

Bluestar narrowed her eyes. "How _dare_ you," she hissed. "I have never sent spies to watch your island home. Besides," she added sneeringly, "what is there to gain from watching _your_ camp? You've lost my respects tonight, so I can't exactly lie to you and tell you that I don't see filth."

RiverClan cats let out derisive screeches of anger and challenge all around him, leaping to their river-used paws. Leopardfur, who had been on good speaking terms with a group of ThunderClan queens seconds before turned on them.

Nightstar had been sitting in the shadows until now, watching the precision go without interfering. He looked contentedly amused. With a grunt the sleek black tomcat rose and limped forward, shoving the snarling leaders apart to face Tallstar.

"I, at least," he meowed sleekly, "show a respectable face here. It is good to see WindClan back, Tallstar." He lowered his head in a ridiculously deep bow so that his nose scraped the smooth surface.

Tallstar snorted, unsheathing and sheathing his claws at a rhythm of his own creation. "You say that," he meowed, his eyes raised skeptically, "even after I heard that you sent hunting parties to my vacant homeland and attempted to catch rabbits while we were away. I heard RiverClan are also poor rabbit hunters," he added to the pale tomcat, Tallstar's eyes glittering with malicious spite.

Crookedstar lashed his tail; Nightstar looked as if he had been clawed across the muzzle and couldn't quite believe it.

"You'll notice, as Bluestar thinks, that I've been trying to _steal from her territory_, so you can kindly keep out of my fur. My warriors have been nowhere near your moors this past moon, or any moon," Crookedstar said dryly, flattening his ears to his compact head.

"So you admit it?" Tigerclaw called swiftly from the base of the boulder. "That you spent time raiding our territory instead?"

"Did I say that?" Crookedstar gave the amber-eyed tabby a shrewd look. "I simply believe I quoted my equal. Absolutely _nothing_ to do with hunting in the moors or woods," he meowed sarcastically.

"We're not kits, Crookedstar!" Bluestar mewed impatiently. "Bones? Scent markers? You are deliberately trying to muscle-in on our territory!" Cold moonlight struck her broad shoulders as she planted her paws firmly over the surface. Fireheart watched with bated breath, afraid of what his battle-ready leader would say next.

"Would you like to know how it feels to be in exile, Crookedstar? Perhaps your Clan can walk under Thunderpaths and live off rats for a whole moon cycle."

Crookedstar's eyes widened to exploding capacity, giving Fireheart the sickeningly fast impression of a round-eyed beetle being stepped on. "Is that a _threat_?" he screeched.

Silence stole over the Gathering. Fireheart quickly snatched a glimpse at the star-studded sky, and saw that it was clear. Did StarClan approve that blood be spilled? _Why aren't you stopping them?_ he demanded impatiently. Did his ancestors no longer care, as they no longer cared for him?

"No." Bluestar's hiss snagged his ears' attention again. "It is a warning. The same goes for you, Nightstar," Bluestar growled. "We have scented the same ShadowClan patrol hunting closer and closer to the Owl Tree."

Nightstar curled his lip. "Apparently ThunderClan cats can't distinguish rogue cats from their own putrid stink," he meowed aggressively. "We have lost prey too."

Tallstar twitched an ear uncomfortably. "I second Bluestar's word," he meowed. "We have also scented other cats. I am not referring to your Clans' attempts at raiding while we were in exile; I speak of the present, now, when we detect your warriors as far as Outlook Rock."

Bluestar flicked an unsheathed claw dismissively. "A convenient excuse, wouldn't you agree, Tallstar? Covering up all these raids with stories for kits about rogues?"

"Allegiance!" yowled a small ShadowClan apprentice suddenly. "WindClan and ThunderClan have united against us!"

Before Ashfur—the elder seated beside the young cat—could silence him with a warning hiss, Stumpytail and another elder Fireheart didn't know were adding their own voices in agreement.

"And how do we know it isn't RiverClan and ShadowClan that have formed a union?" Mudclaw meowed angrily, his neck fur bristling.

Fireheart recognized Tigerclaw's deep growl speaking again from the crowd. "There was no talk of spilling blood and uniting against each other until you said it, Crookedstar! But if that's what you want..."

"Bluestar," Crookedstar rumbled, once he could make himself heard over the outpour of concerned mews, "you need to teach your warriors to hold their tongues when it is not in their place to speak at a Gathering. We have no quarrels with any Clan."

"Why should you shave a quarrel? You wouldn't be able to speak through the mouthfuls of ThunderClan prey you've stuffed yourselves with!" screeched Bluestar, tensing. "My warriors are not yours to command, either!"

"Though you could certainly use our help," Nightstar added with poisonous amusement. "You've lost your touch, Bluestar."

Crookedstar unsheathed his claws and scraped them over the surface of the Great Rock. "I never said anything about uniting our Clans. As if I would with _ShadowClan_, anyway," he added distastefully, glancing over his shoulder at the black tom. "However..." His battle-ready eyes traveled on Tallstar and Bluestar, now standing side-by-side. "I seem to be in need of such. Is that why you brought back WindClan, to invade the rest of the forest? Was Whiteclaw the first step on the path to a greater destiny?"

"You know why we returned," meowed Tallstar in a fruitless attempt to hide his fury. "My Clan has been enjoying the taste of rabbit again. Why would we get our paws wet trying to fish, or our pelts ripped off trying to hunt in undergrowth?"

"Then why have we found traces of other cats along the gorge?" Crookedstar challenged.

"They must be rogues," Tallstar meowed dismissively, "or ShadowClan cats. The darkest of deeds can often be traced to those hearts fueled on the cold north winds. I have not forgotten how Brokenstar ravaged my Clan."

This thought passed through his mind as quickly as it came. Horrified as he was, as Fireheart watched the four great warriors face each other he thought that they looked like silly kits, arguing over who got which prey from the fresh-kill pile and which was the biggest. It quickly dissolved, replaced with terror.

Deadfoot and Onewhisker stalked forward to stand on either side of Mousefur, while together the three cats approached a group made up of Cinderfur and Loudbelly, Blackclaw and Shadepaw.

Tallpoppy and a blue-gray RiverClan queen barred their teeth at Ashfoot, one of the cats Fireheart had made the perilous journey into the Thunderpath tangle to save...

Without even realizing it he was on his paws, abandoning Graystripe's side.

"Fireheart? Where are you goi—?"

Cats around him shifted and began to caterwaul. Before Fireheart had taken another step the valley was plunged into darkness, as solid as Nightstar's dark fur. Everywhere cats scuffled apart and gazed up into the sky. Clouds have drifted over the full moon, engulfing the hollow with a giant black pelt that suffocated the moon and starlight.

Fireheart recognized the terrified mewl of the under-aged apprentice he had met at his first Gathering, Littlecloud. "StarClan has sent the darkness!"

"It is a sign!" yowled WindClan's medicine cat. "Behold our ancestors' wrath! These meetings must be upheld in peace, or not at all."

"Barkface is right!" It was Yellowfang. "We cannot neglect our own Clanmates to squabble among others, especially in the heart of leaf-bare." Her voice echoed in the frightened silence. "We must listen to StarClan!"

Thick quietness echoed around the foliage-lined hollow like fog, punctured by the hoot of an owl off in the distance. Bluestar broke it with a tense mew: "This Gathering is over..."

But Fireheart was barely listening. Graystripe had found his side again and was nudging him away from the mutinous-looking queens.

"Come on, move, you idiot!" Graystripe hissed in a panicky voice.

"...by the will of StarClan." Bluestar sprang off the Great Rock, Tallstar hitting the ground ungracefully beside her.

"ThunderClan!" Bluestar commanded over the heads of enemy felines, "Come! We are leaving!"

No cat needed telling twice; like a guard they encircled their leader, shuffling him along until Fireheart was caught between a blend of mottled pelts. Over Swiftpaw's black-and-white head, he caught a glimpse of Graystripe trying to edge up to the retreating RiverClan patrol. One paw step closer and the gray warrior Stonefur barred his teeth.

"Come any nearer and I'll shred your fur off," the great warrior snarled, his familiar-looking blue eyes flashing.

"There's a truce!" Graystripe warned.

"This Gathering has ended," meowed Stonefur coolly, sheathing his claws. "So has the truce." He straightened. "Tell your spies to keep off our land. I haven't forgotten Whiteclaw, you runty little apprentice."

To his own Clanmates Stonefur turned to face them, his face set and blazing. "War to the enemies," he cried.

"War! War!" called back the RiverClan warriors.

The other parties of retreating cats paused as well, eyeing this union of concentrated fury with interest. Crookedstar crouched in the nearby shadows, and when Fireheart tried to read his face it was carefully blank and expressionless. He had no objection to this open declaration of war.

Bluestar hesitated at the edge of the slope, shoulders tensing, having gone oddly rigid. Her cool blue eyes, once blazing with passion and devotion burned angrily. The she-cat turned on her own paws to yowl in a clear, carrying voice, "Death to the impure! For ThunderClan!"

Caterwauls sprang like hares from the retreating cats. Their paws were tugging them back toward the clearing filled with two aggressive Clans, each barring their teeth and fluffing up their pelts. Fireheart's blood pounded. Despite his better judgement a longing to whip around and tear, bite, and claw his enemies began to lap longingly at his soul . . .

_No!_ _I'm nothing like that! Only Tigerclaw was ever so blood lusting! _

Bluestar's eyes narrowed. Nightstar had stepped forward from his fleeting patrol, as had Tallstar. The four most powerful warriors in the forest swapped hostile, billowing glares.

"Graystripe," Bluestar called in a hoarse growl, "get back over here!"

Graystripe gave a shaky nod and stumbled back over his own paws in haste to flee. Stonefur gave a cold _mrrow_ of laughter, and Bluestar winced. Her blue eyes flared with the briefest of pain, too quick for Fireheart to contemplate. Waiting until the gray warrior vanished into her ranks, she beckoned and turned up the slope. ThunderClan cats poured after her, flanking the she-cat on either side.

Fireheart had to shake his stiff legs to rid himself of his momentary poise. As he brought up the rear of the patrol he caught Tigerclaw's eye. The great tabby had paused to study him. His face was carefully neutral, but there was a gleam in his amber eyes that Fireheart didn't like. Had he been watching him? And for how long?

Tigerclaw hesitated then nodded curtly, taking Fireheart by complete surprise. Blinking, the deputy turned and raced after his leader through the twilit frost and forest. Fireheart remained in the shelter of the gorse for a second longer, then he, too, charged after the rest if ThunderClan.

_Did I really just see respect in Tigerclaw's eyes?_

* * *

**For a fight will break;**

Upon returning to the camp, terror reigned.

The moment Bluestar had slipped through the gorse tunnel at the head of the patrol, cats had bounded out to meet her. Clearly no one had slept tonight, for even the kits were sticking their tiny noses outside the nursery.

"What happened?"

"What did the other Clans say?"

Tradition did not dictate ThunderClan's leader tonight. Rather than speaking from her post on the Highrock Bluestar remained in the center of the clearing. Faces swam around Fireheart as the warriors and apprentices, queens and elders who chose to remain behind gathered around him in a ragged circle.

"Clouds covered the moon," rasped ancient One-eye. For once the queen was not curled in the elders' den, but standing attentive at the head of the other elders. "Was there a fight?"

"We were only clawed by their tongues," Darkstripe snorted dismissively, lashing his tail.

Bluestar raised her tail to silence the caterwauls. "I will not lie to you all," she meowed quietly. "Both Crookedstar and Nighstar's warriors are yowling for our blood."

One of Frostfur's kits squeaked. "We need warriors to protect the Clan!" mewed a tiny, golden tom. He puffed out his chest importantly. "Can we be apprentices?"

Frostfur shushed him. "Quiet," she hushed, wrapping her tail around him and his littermate. "That time is moons away; you won't have to fight just yet."

"But we're ready," protested a ginger and white she-cat.

Amused purrs broke the tension wreathing over the ThunderClan cats.

Bluestar sighed and spoke directly to Tigerclaw. "I want border patrols doubled. At least two warriors to all patrols, be it hunting or border. No cat leaves the camp alone." The gray she-cat then turned to her Clanmates. "Apprentices and queens, see to it that the nursery and elders' den are fortified. Strengthen them with bramble, thorns, anything sturdy. Training needs to be doubled, and cats will be ready to hunt by dawn; no later. Kits must stay in the nursery"— both of Frostfur's kits whined —"and if Yellowfang requires help replenishing herb stores than apprentices will _willingly_ help."

"It's all right, Bluestar," Yellowfang growled, her amber eyes twinkling in the dusk. She was staring oddly at the blue-gray leader. "Cinderpaw is my efficient little helper. I won't need the other apprentices." In a lower voice she grumbled, just for Fireheart to hear, "Thank StarClan too. One is a pawfull already!"

Curious eyes flickered onto Cinderpaw, who lowered her head modestly and cuffed the ground. She mewed something he didn't quite catch, but judging by Yellowfang's impatient meow it was something modest.

Patchpelt spoke. "You didn't mention WindClan," he called out. "Does this mean that they are our allies?"

Murmurs rustled through the crowd like wind. Bluestar twitched a broad shoulder uncertainly. "That is up to Tallstar," she meowed.

"Tallstar and Deadfoot don't have a lot of options, though," Runningwind pointed out, scratching behind his ears with a paw absently. "WindClan's future is as dark as ours. They also provoked the other Clans, and we're all leaf-bare–weak. Someone will attack first, and I certainly don't want to spill blood unless I have to."

"RiverClan has also lost prey," Willowpelt added. "They must be starving. The queens still gossip over their prey-poor river. As for ShadowClan... I do not know."

"Leaf-bare has taken a toll on all of the Clans," hissed Mousefur. "Either way, one of us is being fattened up! There has been no treason from WindClan, but my sense of smell is as sharp as always. RiverClan and ShadowClan denied thieving!"

Angry yowls sliced the still night air.

"Revenge!"

"Let's take back the prey they've stolen from us!"

"Wait!" Tigerclaw meowed in disgust. "Listen to yourselves! We need to avoid battle, you mouse-brained fools. Isn't it harder to hunt with a broken tail or bitten leg?"

Graystripe narrowed his eyes as Swiftpaw added hastily, "But we need to show them a lesson! What will it matter how we hunt if there's nothing _to_ hunt?"

"I know," Bluestar meowed heavily. "But we can't risk war. Yet. I will discuss this with my senior warriors, but in the meantime I expect my orders to be obeyed. Rest assure, if these invasions continue we will make sure that the message _sinks in_."

With her final words Bluestar took her leave, heading for her den below the Highrock. Warriors around Fireheart stirred and began to retreat for their own mossy nests, talking buzzing rampant like a beehive.

"Hi, Fireheart. Can I talk to you?"

Fireheart jumped at the sound of Sandpaw's voice. The ginger apprentice had approached him silently from the edge of the retreating crowd, her green eyes soft with grief. Fireheart stared at her uncertainly. _What's got you looking like someone died?_

"Talk to me?" he echoed, feeling confused.

Graystripe turned toward Fireheart inquiringly as Sandpaw meowed in a quiet voice, "Listen, Fireheart. I just saw Yellowfang, and I—I..."

"What is it?" Graystripe asked, looking concerned. "Is something wrong, Sandpaw?" Fireheart hadn't failed in relaying Sandpaw's abnormally kind behavior, so Graystripe had lost a lot of his hostility toward her during the past few days.

Sandpaw looked embarrassed and determined at the same time. Fleetingly Fireheart wondered how this was possible, especially for _Sandpaw _above all cats. "Well... to be honest, I've been worried about you lately."

"We could start a Clan for that," Fireheart joked wryly. "The number of cats concerned for my well-being has increased dramatically over the past few days."

"We have fresh-kill," Graystripe added, his whiskers twitching slightly.

"I'm serious!" Sandpaw snapped. "Like I said, I went to visit Yellowfang, and the medicine cat...she said that chamomile would be a great herb for you to take—"

"What's chamomile?" Fireheart interrupted with a twinge of unease around his midriff.

"An herb."

"I could have told him_ that_," meowed Graystripe sarcastically. "What does it do?"

Fireheart yawned hugely and cut Sandpaw's angry spit off with a flick of his tail. "Listen, Sandpaw, that's great and everything, I really appreciate it but it's past midnight ad I'm exhausted... Anyway, Cinderpaw already lectured me about herbs today, so I don't think—"

"I wasn't 'lecturing' you!" came a cheeky retort. "You practically _begged _me to show you how borage works!"

Fireheart's eyelids drooped as Cinderpaw bounded from the fern tunnel to meet them. As much as Fireheart adored Cinderpaw's enthusiasm, he couldn't help but note the clearing was deserted, minus the four of them. He nearly groaned for the prospect of sleep.

"Perhaps you can get him to _beg_ for some hard, solid advice right now," Sandpaw greeted Cinderpaw. "He won't listen to me, and it's important."

"How important?" Graystripe asked. "I'd love to gossip all night, but we have hunting to do and dens to strengthen tomorrow..."

_Thank you!_

"Tough. It's an order," Sandpaw cut across him shortly.

Fireheart bit his tongue to stay awake. "I thought you were giving me friendly advice?" he said with false interest. Again the flame-coated cat yawned, wondering how Tigerclaw would feel if Fireheart excused himself from training on account of lack of sleep.

Cinderpaw and Graystripe shared similar expression of confusion. "Who ordered what?"

Sandpaw's ear twitched as she answered quietly, "I've been watching you for a while now, and—"

"What are you, a spy for another Clan?" Fireheart meowed incredulously, feeling his fur prickle with nervousness.

"—_and_ I went to see Yellowfang because you looked like you were ill," Sandpaw concluded with a breathless pause.

Graystripe's jaw fell open. "Ill?" he repeated, dumbstruck. "How does he look_ ill_ to you? He's still standing, isn't he?"

Sandpaw turned imploringly to Cinderpaw for backup. Facing Fireheart, she meowed unfalteringly under his angry stare, "Because Cloudkit is...well, you know..."

"Dead," Fireheart stated icily, knowing otherwise.

Sandpaw squirmed. "Normally when a cat undergoes loss or suffering they become either physically ill, incapable of simple tasks, shocked, or...mentally depressed. I've been watching you, and you've been drifting off a lot lately. You've also been extremely defensive, jumpy, unresponsive, deaf to things around you, fatigued, and slightly...down. And you keep eating all the fresh-kill. Two dawns ago you ransacked every mouse we hard-working apprentices caught."

"I'm not a glutton. Every cat is going to be ravenous while leaf-bare is going strong." Fireheart felt his hackles rise. "Anyway, I'm not depressed, Sandpaw," he growled. "I am, however, extremely _annoyed_ because a certain apprentice is trying to take over as the medicine cat."

"Yellowfang," Sandpaw meowed angrily, her voice rising, "actually agreed with me and told me to send for you after the Gathering! She thinks that you are sick!"

"You can tell _Yellowfang_," Fireheart snapped, "that if she wants to find curable patients then go bother the elders!"

"Very funny," Sandpaw hissed, her pale fur fluffing out aggressively. Graystripe took a quick step back as she stalked past him and stooped nose-to-nose with Fireheart. "There's chamomile in the her den with your name on it. Now be a good kittypet and go fetch!"

Fireheart felt slightly stung. It had been so long since she had used that jibe against him.

Cinderpaw gave a gasp of understanding at the sound of the herb's name. Graystripe nudged her on the shoulder. "What_ is _chamomile?" he breathed.

"Chamomile soothes anxiety, frayed nerves, shock, deep sadness and rage," Cinderpaw answered quietly. "It calms cats down and restores them to past states—in severe cases—of saneness."

Fireheart sat down and drew a paw over his ear. "Thank you, Cinderpaw," he meowed in attempt to sound level-headed. Confirming Sandpaw's theory was the last thing he wanted!

Sandpaw meowed, "I promised Yellowfang! Now move it, or I'll go and fetch Bluestar and Tigerclaw!"

Embarassment at the scene she painted vividly into his mind made Fireheart bare his teeth. "Sandpaw, please, stop treading on my tail and let me get some sleep—"

"Hey!"

Graystripe, Cinderpaw, Fireheart and Sandpaw turned their heads in a similar swinging motion. Whitestorm had thrust his head outside the bramble bush that served as the warriors' den with an uncharacteristically upset look.

"If you can't keep quiet then go sleep in the forest," he meowed shortly. "Otherwise, return to your nests and stay there! We have a long day tomorrow. Sandpaw, I expect better of you next time." With that, the white tomcat retreated back inside.

Sandpaw looked sheepish at her mentor's harsh words. "Sorry," she called softly, flattening her ears and looking calm again. "Fireheart's just being a thorn in my side and—where did he go, anyway?"

The three cats looked around and caught sight of Fireheart as he began to slip away toward the gorse tunnel. Fireheart froze as he felt their gazes scorch his pelt. _Mouse-dung_, he thought sulkily and reluctantly spun around to face them. "Yes?"

"Where are you going?" Cinderpaw meowed tartly.

"The forest. Whitestorm said to go sleep there," Fireheart replied calmly, trying to look innocent.

Sadly, he found that both she-cats were looking at him critically. At least Sandpaw had managed to convince somebody of his 'depression'. Graystripe still looked skeptical.

Both she-cats marched up to him and roughly steered him by the flank in the direction of the fern tunnel. He gazed helplessly at Graystripe as they shepherded him past the gray warrior to Yellowfang's den. With his nest long behind him and sleep yowling in his head, Fireheart half-wondered if he would become depressed after all. Maybe there_ was_ truth in Sandpaw's less-than-helpful theory, even if the starting point had been wrong. He whimpered.

* * *

**Not all hope is lost,**

Fireheart woke to a fresh snowfall three dawns after his 'treatment'. The three she-cats had forced the chamomile down on him, and for the sake of his little treason that he cooperated in eating the bitter-tasting herb.

Pale gray light trickled through the branches and tendrils of the bramble bush. Snow gathered at its leafless edges, and he shivered. The senior warriors had it made out sleeping in the center of the den amongst a forest of pelts.

Most of the nests around him were empty. Darkstripe was still dozing lightly in his mossy bedding, his gray-striped flanks rising with every shallow breath. Fireheart twisted his other way and breathed in the scent of Graystripe's nest. The scent was stale. He dabbled a paw at the messy moss clumps left behind. His bedding was cold.

Fireheart gingerly rose to his paws and padded outside. He could understand Graystripe's feelings. Knowing that Silverstream was expecting kits, he would want to take on a more dominant father role and look after the queen and their kits. _But it's not time yet_, he thought sourly, shaking his ill tidings off. _Brackenpaw will need to be taken out for hunting if Tigerclaw sees him mentor less. _

Fireheart stretched his back in an arch before trotting over the soft powder. The nice part about Bluestar's new order was that she couldn't wait around for him to be up by the crack of dawn and drag him off on some useless patrol. He abandoned these thoughts and paused beside the tree stump, peering into the ferns that sheltered the young cats from wind and rain. "Brackenpaw?" he meowed.

Brackenpaw's golden-brown head poked outside. He snuffled. "Ugh. This weather is awful." Upon realizing who had called his name he scrambled outside and began to smooth down his fur with hasty licks. "Good morning, Fireheart—sorry—I know that I should have been out ages ago..."

"Relax," Fireheart soothed. "Look." He pointed with his muzzle at the milk-pale sky. "It's not even past dawn yet. You're fine, and so is your fur. Now stop fussing."

Brackenpaw's babble ceased as he stopped fiddling with his pelt. He swallowed and straightened. "The baby birds are probably outs stretching their wings," he pointed out miserably.

"Well, more prey for us then," Fireheart purred encouragingly. "We need to find another warrior before we head out to hunt."

Brackenpaw nodded. "Maybe Frostfur?" he suggested. "She hasn't been out of the camp in moons. Besides, I'm positive that Brindleface can kit-sit all of the other litters while we're out."

"That's a theory," Fireheart agreed, remembering in a flash that the white queen was Brackenpaw's mother. "That's a great idea, Brackenpaw. Go ask her now and then we can go hunt."

Brackenpaw let out a tiny squeak of excitement and gave a little bounce, much like his sister Cinderpaw. "Yippee! I'll be right back." Saying this, the apprentice darted across the snowy camp and disappeared into the nursery. Fireheart hesitated, then followed at a much more leisurely pace.

As he approached he heard the apprentice's voice, along with the white queen's warm consent. "...of course I'll come with you. You don't mind, do you, Brindleface?"

"Not at all. Enjoy your hunt," came the drowsy reply.

Frostfur squeezed out of the den with Brackenpaw in tow, his eyes shining. Frostfur dipped her head in greeting. "All right, Fireheart?"

"Fine, thanks," Fireheart mumbled, slightly put off by the concern in her eyes. _Why are you fussing over me?_

He understood when a moment later Cinderpaw limped over to join her mother, a thorn vine dragging at her feet. "'Morning," she mewed brightly, flashing a glimpse at Fireheart before busily beginning to weave the tendrils among the nursery's walls. The two she-cats exchanged a significant look. How much had Cinderpaw relayed about his 'depression' to her mother? _Great StarClan, does all of ThunderClan know?_

"We should eat before we go," Fireheart suggested in attempt to quell Brackenpaw's nonplused look.

Brackenpaw scraped his paws eagerly at the snow, as if imagining it was the spine of some small creature. "But don't we have to hunt first before we can take fresh-kill?"

"That's true. But it'll be crow-food soon," Frostfur pointed out. "Better to eat it now then let it spoil later. Come on, we can go grab something now while there's food leftover."

Cinderpaw looked over in interest as her kin trotted off. "You're going hunting?" she asked Fireheart in an odd voice.

"Yep," Fireheart confirmed. "We need to before sunhigh. I have border patrolling duties later, so that won't be a problem..."

He trailed off feebly upon catching the hollow grief in her blue eyes. It caught him as tactless when he realized how excluded she must feel, her family off to hunt while she was bound to watch.

_So it wasn't like I had a choice; it was like going blind, being forced to adapt to something I didn't want, couldn't control... I always dreamt of running over the pine needles and spruce leaves, with you and Graystripe and Brackenpaw and all my Clanmates at my side._

Hadn't she said that to him only four days ago? Her fondest wish, ripped out of her claws and thrust into the rapids to drown.

Fireheart's heart ached for the gray apprentice. "I'm sorry," he meowed quietly. Empathy swelled into his chest until he could have wailed his grief for her aloud. Biting back his guilt, he meowed in a watery voice, "So. . .so Yellowfang isn't torturing you with herbs today?"

Cinderpaw's ghostly stare faded. She looked kit-small with her clinging sadness and twisted back leg. "Nope," answered Cinderpaw calmly, in attempts to cover up for her moment of melancholy. "Bluestar asked me to help build up the camp's defenses. It feels great doing apprentice stuff again!" Blue flames ignited in her eyes, kindling the crushed remains of her dream.

Fireheart gave a rusty purr. "I hope you also remembered that means going over the elders' coats for ticks."

"Oh, don't worry," Cinderpaw assured him, giving him a hearty shove. "I'm prepared for the deadly task."

"Fireheart!" Frostfur's impatient yowl rang across the clearing now busy with cats fanning out at work. "I thought we were hunting, not gossiping?"

"Oops." Fireheart dipped his head. "I have to go, Cinderpaw," he mewed, his legs already tugging him away from the nursery. "Can we chat later?"

"Oh." Cinderpaw's tail drooped. "Uh, sure, I guess."

"Great," Fireheart mewed, already halfway near the patrol. "'Bye, Cinderpaw!"

"See you later, Fireheart."

Her downcast reply tugged at his heat until he reached the thorn barrier where her kin were restlessly pacing.

"Are we ready to go?" Frostfur meowed kindly, lashing her bottlebrush tail back and forth.

"Just about," Fireheart conceded. "We need to decide where we're going. Brackenpaw?" he prompted.

The sedated apprentice looked nervous under his mother's gaze; he seemed to want to impress her as much as he wanted to not embarrass himself. "Uh," he stammered, "I thought that, er, Tallpines would be a good place to hunt because the tree-eater would be silent until greenleaf. And the coverage from the pines might make prey flock there for shelter." His voice grew more confident. "Nut and pinecone-bearing trees would also make them more likely to venture out of their burrows, while the trees would shelter us from snow and the pine needles would muffle our paw steps."

Fireheart glowed with pride at his thorough answer. "Excellent," he praised him lightly, touching the young cat's flank with his tail. "Let's see if you're right."

Fireheart signaled, and the three cats turned away and fled into the cool shaded forest. Fireheart's anxieties seemed to dissolve as he took a run through the still trees with Brackenpaw and Frostfur at each flank. Like leaving paw prints in the snow, with each winged step more of his restless frets and worries departed from his mind in the thick of the hunt. Too soon the once-leafy coating of oak and maple leaves dissolved from bare branches into oak and pine trees. Frost coated the ground where the needles were thinnest overhead.

Brackenpaw edged along the Twoleg path. He opened his mouth and drew in the crisp, sharp tang of the cold and undergrowth.

"What do you smell?" Fireheart asked, padding over.

"Twolegs were here," Brackenpaw reported. "The scent's stale though, so I think it was a few days ago."

"Anything else?"

Brackenpaw tasted the air again, his breath wreathing around his muzzle. "Fox. Also stale. And a redstart."

"Good job," Frostfur meowed warmly, her eyes glowing with pride. "We'll make a warrior out of you yet!"

Brackenpaw's beaming face fell slightly as he looked away, meowing tartly, "Cinderpaw should have been here with me."

Fireheart felt sadness stir in his chest like a trapped bird for the troubled family. Frostfur seemed set to be positive. "You can be a warrior for her too," she promised him. "Cinderpaw is better off with three good legs than being with StarClan. You need to accept that, Brackenpaw."

Brackenpaw sighed and muttered something under his breath.

Frostfur gave his ear a quick lick. "Why not try over there?" she suggested, pointing toward one of the shallow scrapes left by the tree-eating monster. "There could be something in that ditch."

Brackenpaw nodded, slightly less glumly and stalked through the scarce undergrowth. Frostfur waited until he had vanished from sight before turning toward Fireheart, looking troubled.

"I've never known two cats closer than them," she meowed with a note of pride—or was it worry?—in her voice. "They're night and day, but they always seem to sense each other's emotions. Brackenpaw has been a bundle of energy recently, correct?"

"Actually, he has been more active recently," Fireheart agreed, tucking into a comfortable crouch to hear what the queen had to say.

Frostfur whisked her bushy tail over her paws. "I think he's making up for Cinderpaw's absence," she mewed thoughtfully, her quiet soft-spoken voice betraying nothing. "Whenever I've caught him not bouncing around he's been looking upset. He's worried for Cinderpaw, and I think he's also guilty."

Interest prickled at Fireheart's pelt like brambles. "What does he feel guilty for? Her accident on the Thunderpath?" he asked.

Frostfur nodded slowly. "He was with her when she left the camp. He might think that it's his fault for not stopping her from charging out onto the Thunderpath."

_That's exactly how I feel._ "It isn't Brackenpaw's fault," Fireheart meowed firmly, standing up at once. "I'll find a way to change his mind." _Because if it's anyone's fault, the blame rests with me alone._

"That's kind of you," Frostfur meowed warmly, also rising to her paws. "But I think I can manage on my own."

Fireheart gave his chest fur a self-conscious lick, aware that Frostfur was watching him intently now. "If you need anything, just ask," he replied evasively.

"Well," the white she-cat said pointedly, "what I _do_ need is to hunt. So how about we try for those thickets over there?" With her tail she motioned toward a clump of hazel bushes and low-hanging tree branches.

Fireheart nodded. "Okay." He stalked toward the bushes, pausing to scent the air as Brackenpaw had done earlier. Musky flavors floated back to him on an upwind breeze that whispered to him of an unsuspecting squirrel foraging for seeds. His stomach rumbled with hunger, and he stilled the urge to eat. Signaling with his tail, he began to creep lightly over the ground. Tiny pulses of the creature's heart rushed through the frozen soil and trembled beneath his light pads.

_Circle around before it shoots up that tree._

Fireheart felt his muscles move instinctively beneath his short pelt as he wove through the undergrowth until he had encircled the foraging squirrel. It had not detected him yet. It continued to scrape at the dirt in its search for nut stores.

He tensed, and dove out of the bracken with a hiss. The squirrel glanced up and began to scrabble up the tree bark. Too late Fireheart had sprang with a high leap from his powerful back legs and snatched it by its furry tail, yanking it back down with him onto the earth. For a moment the impact stunned it, giving Fireheart enough time to sink his claws into its throat.

"Thank you StarClan for the life of this prey to feed my Clan," he uttered, remembering seeing Lionheart use the same prayer as an apprentice. "I will take no more than I need." Reciting these words, he began to churn up loose snow and bury the squirrel.

The soft steps of paws announced Frostfur's arrival. From her white coat came the tang of spilled vole blood.

Frozen undergrowth rustled as she buried her fresh-kill. Fireheart watched as she stood again and looked at him curiously.

Fireheart felt his fur prickle as if ants marched down his spine. "Is something the matter?" he ventured.

Frostfur shrugged. "Nothing, really," she replied casually, though her eyes remained sharp. "I was just remembering how fondly Cinderpaw speaks of you. My daughter really admires you, you know."

"Thanks?" Fireheart mewed in a dazed sort of way. For the first time Fireheart realized that Frostfur's sneaked looks at him had been something close to appraisal. She had been sizing him up. But for what? And why did she say that about Cinderpaw? Embarassment made him feel extremely aware of the fact he hadn't groomed himself properly in a few days.

Frostfur blinked slowly, her blue eyes narrowed with measurement. "Now that I think about it," she meowed, "even if Cinderpaw can never be a warrior, there are still other paths for her to take. She could become a queen, for instance."

_So?_

Frostfur's intense gaze continued to rest of Fireheart for a few heartbeats longer. Finally, the message seemed to sink in the flame-coated warrior.

He nearly choked at the queen's implication. Very quickly he covered his violent exclamation as a cough and busied himself with scraping leftover dirt over the spot that marked his fallen squirrel.

_Me? Her mate? Frostfur must have eaten too much fresh-kill, or she got a strong whiff of catnip! Never. I'm too old for her, too_. . ._too_. . .

"I'll try near Twolegplace, okay?" Fireheart offered lightly in attempt to escape Frostfur's presence. Frostfur nodded.

"Good hunting," she wished him before skirting around the hazel thicket to where Brackenpaw had disappeared to.

Alone for what was possibly the first time in days, Fireheart set off for a brisk pace toward Twolegplace. He had retraced this very same route when Bluestar had been ill and ThunderClan had been ravaged by greencough. He wondered why his paws now guided him along these familiar haunts.

_I feel comfortable here_, Fireheart thought as he paused beside a puddle. A ginger cat stared back up at him from the water's depths, its eyes shimmering with happiness. That he felt more happy around his old kittypet roots than his Clan made him bristle with self-inflicted anger._ You're a warrior, not a housecat._ He gazed back at his own expression, wondering how he differed look-wise from the same naive kittypet who had ventured here nearly a year ago.

Thoughts erupted like wildfire in his mind. _I can't be Cinderpaw's mate._ He adored his apprentice, but he had never felt a stronger feeling for her than friendship. Perhaps he had forged a stronger mentor-apprentice bond than most cats cared to; but mates? That required a commitment he wasn't ready for yet.

Graystripe understood love. It meant doing what seemed unnatural and willing to sacrifice everything. But how could Fireheart have done that when he felt so insecure, like a newborn kit at its mother's side? He was hardly a warrior himself!

She was too young, anyway. But come newleaf, he knew that the Clan would be expecting litters of kits. And what would Cinderpaw do with her crippled back leg? Frostfur was right; she had limited options. Hunting would be a challenge. Fireheart knew that Cinderpaw would track down the slowest chaffinch to hunt if she wanted to, but her ambitions were forever crushed.

_Maybe Frostfur thinks I owe her? If _I_ had tried harder, Cinderpaw wouldn't have gotten hit._ _Brackenpaw keeps blaming himself, and Frostfur said that she didn't blame me at all._

_But. . ._

Guilt made his head swim until his surmounting thoughts threatened to engulf him like an overflowing wave. Panting, he bounded across the dead leaves and frost and sprang up onto the fence. Fireheart shuddered and crouched low against the wooden beam, his shoulder taut. As he wallowed in his own confusing thoughts and emotions a new scent wreathed around his muzzle, as familiar as his own nest and twice as welcoming.

He turned around to see Princess trotting carefully across the snow from her garden. Her tabby pale coat glistened as she skated over the slush delicately, bunching her haunches and scrabbling up the fence post to sit beside him.

"Fireheart!" she meowed happily, rubbing his cheeks with her muzzle. "It's great to see you!"

Fireheart felt a swooping sensation in his chest. He had completely forgotten. How could he have been so mouse-brained? Of course Princess would want to know how Cloudkit was doing! What was he supposed to say? "Sorry, Princess, my traitorous deputy and warrior ancestors condemned your son to death, so now I have to risk my neck and the necks of four other cats just to keep him alive, _let alone _in a warrior Clan."

Even in his head the words sounded stupid.

"It's great to see you, too," Fireheart mewed, trying to sound bright. "How are your other kits keeping out of mischief?"

"They know nothing else _but_ trouble," Princess purred, stretching forward and entwining tails with him. "How is my son?"

Fireheart hesitated. In a heartbeat he decided to tell her the truth. . .or part of the truth, anyway. "Cloudkit is fine. He'll be an apprentice in a few moons."_ I hope._

"His name is Cloudkit?" Princess repeated curiously, her eyes stretching like pools filled to the brim with snowmelt. "Did you pick the name for him?"

"Yes," Fireheart replied. "In the Clans, cats are named for either things in the forest, the sky, animals, fur and body traits..."

"So you were named Fireheart because of your ginger pelt?"

Fireheart nodded, his fur prickling with pride.

Princess trembled with delight. Her eyes softened for a moment, before she asked unexpectedly, "What would my name be if I joined a Clan?"

The question knocked Fireheart back like a burst of wind. "C-Clan leaders normally decide if you're an outsider," he admitted truthfully, stunned. "So I don't know. But you'd be about warrior age, so you would have a warrior name, not an apprentice name."

Princess sprung another surprisingly deep question at him. "So what would you call me?"

Fireheart blinked, studying his sister curiously for a moment. At last he replied uncertainly, "Maybe Birdsong, for your light and gentle personality?"

Princess's whiskers trembled as she let out a tinkly _mrrow_ of laughter that made the bell around her kittypet collar tremble. Birds shot out of their trees and took to the sky in startled flight.

"You obviously haven't seen me scold my kits," she rumbled, her eyes glittering like riverwashed pebbles. "That's very kind of you, brother. Our mother would be over the moon if she heard that!"

Fireheart narrowed his eyes playfully. "So, _Birdsong_, would you care to come hunting with me?" he teased.

Princess shook her head. "Oh, no, thank you! I have many kits to keep from tumbling over each other, so you can do the hunting."

He felt pleased to be back in his sister's presence, away from his unhappy memories in ThunderClan.

But Princess wasn't done speaking. "I just remembered to ask: Is Cloudkit going to be your apprentice after all?"

Fireheart's upsurge fell to pieces like rainwater. "Er, no, he isn't," he meowed regretfully. "Bluestar asked that another warrior be his mentor," he lied.

Princess's whiskers stopped twitching. "I'm sorry," she breathed, looking apologetically at him.

"But don't worry." Fireheart covered up quickly for his unhappiness. "It's not like I won't get to see him." _Yeah, in a battle against RiverClan, with my pelt being shredded off._ "Other warriors always step in to help train the apprentices when their mentors are absent. I've been taking Brackenpaw out a lot recently because Graystripe has been so busy."

"Who is Brackenpaw?"

"Cinderpaw's brother," Fireheart meowed. "He's broad-shouldered and muscular, with a golden brown tabby pelt."

Princess scrunched up her face, hard in thought. "Though the name Graystripe sounds familiar..., yes, you mentioned to me last time that you had been fighting with him. Have you made up?"

"Graystripe and I are as good as denmates can get," Fireheart replied, feeling relieved. "He really helped me out just a few days ago— "

"Fireheart! Fireheart!"

The sound of his name split the air like a claw. Bracken parted as Frostfur charged out into the line of fence, her blue battle-livid eyes alive with panic. Following behind her was Brackenpaw and Graystripe, both panting heavily as if they had just ran from Mothermouth.

"Fireheart!" Brackenpaw gasped in a rattling breath, "RiverClan is—"

His meow died in his throat at the sight of the kittypet teetering on the fence next to Fireheart. Graystripe blinked curiously, the urgency in his eyes dying. Frostfur's hackles began to rise. Fireheart tensed. He was preparing to fight his own _Clanmates_. The last thing he wanted was to be caught by this rowdy, battle-ready patrol, but it seemed that StarClan's fortunes were waning.

"Who is this?" Brackenpaw demanded.

"Are you Smudge?" Graystripe indicated with his paw to Princess, whose eyes had widened like a frightened owl. "Fireheart told me that he still spoke to the kittypet—I meant _housecat_—on the edge of the woods."

"Smudge?" Princess seemed terrified that this "ruffian" would know such names. "N-no, my name is Princess. I am F-Fireheart's sister."

Frostfur stared sadly at Princess, the hostility fading like sun-dried dew. Of all the cats there, Fireheart knew that she had felt lowly when Cloudkit had been whisked from the camp. The white warrior probably felt bad for the mother of his nephew, who had given her son away with high hopes the kit would be enrolled into warrior training.

Fireheart broke the awkward silence by leaping down on the black-trodden pine needles below. "What is it?" he demanded. Surely they hadn't come just to make a scene of catching him talking with his kittypet kin? "You mentioned RiverClan."

Brackenpaw's breathlessness returned as he gasped, "RiverClan is preparing for battle! They're going to attack ThunderClan!"

_What?_

Fireheart's head began to spin like a whirlpool, as if he were being dragged won into the churning black waters of the gorge. Heavy-pawed, his sore pads felt like stones at this ominous declaration. "What happened?" he meowed sharply.

Brackenpaw let out a mewl like a lost kit.

"We'll fill you in as we head back to camp," Graystripe replied warily. He looked sick with apprehension, and Fireheart knew why: The enemy warriors he might possibly be fighting were Silverstream's denmates.

Blood roared in his ears as Fireheart turned to look up at his sister. "Take care," he meowed, fighting the rising panic surging through him like a river.

Princess's eyes burned into his as she joined him on the ground with a sturdy jump. Pressing her pelt to his, they shared a brief moment of comfort before the she-cat's breath buffeted his ear in a soft caress.

"Good luck, Fireheart. And please come back safe."

* * *

**But everything is at stake.**

With urgency the patrol of four hared over the carpet of dead leaves and frost, their ears blown back from the run.

"Why is RiverClan attacking?" Fireheart panted between bounds.

Graystripe hesitated in his pause to clear a fallen, rotting sapling a few tail-lengths ahead. Fireheart braced for the impact and sprang in timing to Frostfur and Brackenpaw, each clearing it with powerful leaps.

"I was hunting at Sunningrocks with Tigerclaw," Graystripe explained breathlessly, "and the rest of the patrol, Dustpaw and Runningwind. Dustpaw saw a rabbit big enough to feed _all _the nursing queens and elders"— Fireheart's mouth watered —"and the mouse-brained fool chased it across the RiverClan border right into Leopardfur's paws!"

Anxiety bubbled in Fireheart's belly uncomfortably. "What happened next? Was she furious?" he asked wearily, dreading the answer.

Graystripe's yellow eyes darkened. "Oh, Leopardfur was angry, all right. She cuffed him over the ear and gave him a nip as he raced across the scent markers, but not without a good-bye message: 'RiverClan attacks at sundown.'"

Frostfur and Brackenpaw both swerved in opposite directions to avoid a thick-based oak with knotted, gnarled roots that snaked through the soil. Fireheart stumbled as he tackled the twisted ground head-on, the weathered bark nearly tripping him as he skidded to a halt at the top of the ravine. He didn't even need to be in the camp to feel the tension pounding off like waves; below, cats were yowling in panicky voices. He could almost taste their distress, picking apart the different emotions like scents. He thought he heard to cry of a kit, silenced a heartbeat later by a queen.

Swapping anxious looks, the two warriors plunged down the craggy slope, Frostfur and her son only a tail-length behind. Pebbles tumbled down the slope as Fireheart shook grit from his fur and plunged into the gorse tunnel. Graystripe cursed behind him as brambles snagged his fur, and Brackenpaw gasped.

Warriors, apprentices, queens and elders huddled in a ragged circle around Bluestar. The blue-gray she-cat had drawn herself to her fullest height, her back arched as she stared down her muzzle at a cringing Dustpaw. Her deputy sat at her side, his amber eyes storming with anger.

Fireheart's patrol flooded the ranks of on looking cats. He brushed past Runningwind and caught the end of Bluestar's harsh, whispered rebuke: ". . .will mean battle, Dustpaw. The Clans are prepared to kill, and because of your foolishness good Clan cats from both ThunderClan and RiverClan may die."

Dustpaw lowered his head further. "I'm sorry," he mewed, his tail trembling. Fireheart felt an unexpected jab of pity for the young brown tom. Overhead the sky was an ominous milky-white color, dappled with thick snow clouds that tumbled across the sky in packs.

His momentary wave of sympathy changed to annoyance as Dustpaw added sneeringly, "Why should we care about stupid RiverClan warriors, anyway? It's not as if it's _our_ blood we're spilling when we rip their pelts off—"

Bluestar bared her teeth at him and he fell silent. "I don't want to hear that any RiverClan cat has died," she hissed, lashing her long tail. There was an odd light to her eyes and a twitch developing in her taut facial muscles. "If battle can be avoided then let it be. You still have much more to learn if you ever want to be a warrior."

"What? _No!_" Horror filled Dustpaw's face. "But—but I want to be a warrior!"

"Then act like one. Normally I'd punish you, but we must be prepared for sunset so that must be put off. Tigerclaw." She turned her head toward her tabby deputy. "Choose at least six other warriors to accompany you to the RiverClan border. Wait there for me. I shall organize patrols here, so that we do not leave the camp unguarded."

Fireheart's blood froze. _She's going to risk her final life in battle?_

"Of course!" Graystripe hissed in a soft undertone. "Bluestar is going to pounce on them before Crookedstar's cats have the chance to slip toward our camp."

Tigerclaw dipped his head respectfully. "Of course," he answered to his leader. As Bluestar went to discuss something with the elders Tigerclaw spun around to face his Clan. "Alright, I want Darkstripe, Mousefur, Willowpelt, Runningwind, Fireheart and Graystripe. Oh, I may as well take you and Sandpaw," he added to Dustpaw. "Redeem yourself in battle, Dustpaw, and we may consider making you a warrior after all."

Relief made Dustpaw's fur flatten. "Thank you! I—I mean, y-yes, Tigerclaw," he backtracked quickly, bobbing his head eagerly like a woodpecker.

Tigerclaw signaled with his tail and Fireheart fell into step behind him, for once glad that the dark-hearted tabby had strength to offer. A thrill of excitement made his fur bristle. He was going to be part of the battle patrol! Terror eclipsed this momentary lapse of rushing, paw-prickling nervousness when he realized that Graystripe had been selected as well. He would be fighting starving RiverClan soon, knowing that Silverstream's Clanmates were all hungry and angry from a long and cruel leaf-bare. . .

One look at Graystripe's face, contorted with unmasked terror, confirmed his theory.

The remaining cats watched with anxiety as Tigerclaw began to pad away. As the amber-eyed senior warrior drew past Whitestorm, he touched the white warrior's flank with his tail. Fireheart edged closer and caught the deputy's murmured words.

"I wish for you to stay behind. Your energy shall be needed to protect the camp, friend," Tigerclaw rumbled, taking Fireheart by surprise.

Whitestorm nodded in return. "I shall guard the camp with my life," he vowed calmly, though his whiskers trembled slightly.

Bluestar slipped over and joined Tigerclaw and Whitestorm. "Longtail, Frostfur, Swiftpaw and Brackenpaw shall be left behind to guard the camp. Whitestorm, you and Yellowfang shall be in charge."

Fireheart blinked in surprise, momentarily forgetting his urge to run and hide behind the nursery like a terrified kit. With so much commotion going on he realized that he hadn't seen so much as a whisker of Yellowfang _or_ Cinderpaw. Worry clawing at his belly, the ginger warrior made a turnaround and darted toward the medicine cat den.

He nearly collided into Cinderpaw as she hobbled out of the den. Yowling and spitting, she flung herself back and stared around wildly. She looked as if she were expecting a stampede of badgers with her blue eyes as wide as full moons.

"Don't do that," she breathed, dropping her raised front paw. "You scared the fleas off my pelt, stupid furball."

Fireheart guessed that her heart was hammering badly; his certainly was. To hide his startle he gave his ear a quick wash, asking in concern, "Where are you heading?"

"Out into the forest." Guarded thoughtfulness masked the gray apprentice's voice. "Yellowfang asked me to head out into the woods to find herbs."

"Is that safe?" It was hard for him to forget that the last time she had left camp alone, she had been run out onto the verge along the Thunderpath.

"Yes, I'll be fine!" Cinderpaw snapped, sounding uncannily like Yellowfang. She gave his ears a quick lick. "You'll be on watch for RiverClan, won't you? So I won't have to worry about an ambush or trap. Anyway, we need to stock up supplies for the battle."

Fireheart ducked his head. "Sorry," he mewed, meaning it. "I didn't mean to—"

"Fret like a queen?" Fireheart's coat suddenly felt uncomfortably hot, despite the chilly leaf-bare wind. Cinderpaw began to pad away, adding over her shoulder as she limped, "I'll be fine, don't worry."

_But I do._

Fireheart's didn't take his eyes of her until she vanished into the gorse tunnel, swallowed up by its foggy gloom. Pushing off his pangs of worry, the young tom urged himself to pad into the fern tunnel. The moment he entered he realized that something was wrong. The scents all seemed staler.

The clearing was empty.

His pulsed quickened. It was only two seasons ago when Spottedleaf had vanished the same way, slain by Clawface of ShadowClan. With his pelt bristling he spun around wildly and prepared to charge out into the camp, when a chilling voice called him back.

"Stop."

Slowly, very slowly, Fireheart spun around to face the owner of the voice. From the shadowy alcove that split into a sharp crack along the rock wall was Yellowfang. Her eyes were glazed over, and she was trembling violently. Instantly he made a gesture to move forward, but the gray medicine cat stopped him by barring the way with her tail. Was she having some sort of fit?

"Yellowfang?" He gulped.

Upon hearing her name uttered the she-cat went rigid. "Fireheart."

Fireheart pricked his ears.

Panting laboriously, her head lolled slightly as she fixed him with a piercing, yellow-eyed glare. "Beware. . .bleeding. . .peace. . .will be slain. White will be stained red. . .and in death, a. . .miracle. War shall unfold again, darker than anything before it." Gasping, the gray she-cat took several fleet steps forward and pressed her face to his, leaning against his shoulder for support. Her sour breath filled his nose, but he couldn't tug his gaze off of hers.

"Beware. . .the greatest of miracles. . .destruction. . .from within."

As if by a great clawed paw, Yellowfang's final hoarse breath was dragged out of her through the throat. In silence the she-cat crumpled on the ground at his paws, panting heavily but otherwise unharmed.

"Yellowfang!" cried Fireheart, as lowered his head to her chest and listened hard.

_Thud._

_She's alive._ Dizziness surged in his head. Fireheart's footing staggered as he took a step back. Gently, scared thoroughly that she might not wake up again, he prodded her muzzle and whispered tentatively, "Yellowfang?"

A sigh caught in her throat, turning into a raspy cough. Unsteadily Yellowfang hoisted her chest and head off the den floor with both front paws. Confusion lined her face as she studied Fireheart groggily. "Did I fall asleep?"

Instantly Fireheart decided to lie. "Yes," he meowed offhandedly, hoping his ploy might work. He clung to his relief and feverish hope. "You sent Cinderpaw out to fetch herbs, remember?"

Yellowfang blinked slowly, uncertainly even. "Odd." Her voice wavered; she turned a troubled look onto the bright orange warrior. "Yes, I know that I did. I... but then, when I went to chew a marigold poultice for a cobweb dressing when the battle starts—the battle!" she cried, springing to her paws with surprising nimbleness. "StarClan!"

Fireheart ducked out of her way as she raged past. Yellowfang snorted impatiently and muttered berated curses under her breath. Gingerly the she-cat nipped up several stalks of bright, golden flowers with thin petals that formed a pinecone-shape. She hastily shredded them off and chewed them to a pulp, spitting them out on an oak leaf.

"...you stupid feather-headed fool, falling asleep on the brink of war! Anyone would think you're an apprentice!" Yellowfang spoke furiously to herself as she chewed the flower petals in one corner of her mouth, chiding herself with the other. "How could you? The herb stores are lower from leaf-bare and greencough! We need poppy, chervil for infected wounds, comfrey for some mouse-brained idiot whom I have no doubt will end up braking some bone in their body. Cinderpaw better be quick... And _you_!"

Fireheart jumped as she addressed him. For a moment he had wondered if she had even forgotten that he was there.

Yellowfang glared at him. "Don't you have a raiding party to join?"

His heart lightened; this was the Yellowfang he was used to, not the aged she-cat who had worried about passing out, or the empty, possessed warrior who had cast the omen.

The omen. . .

The battle!

Before Yellowfang could flick her tail Fireheart sped out of the fern tunnel, his heart pounding wildly. He dug his claws into the ground and swerved to avoid colliding into Brackenpaw. He pulled himself hard ahead, his chest pounding like gushing black water. Snow crunched under his paws as he fell into pace with the back of the patrol heading for the Sunningrocks. Darkstripe blinked in surprise as Fireheart caught up, huffing from his hastened trek through the icy forest.

"You made it," the black tabby observed, his eyes narrowed. "Budge up front and get ready for battle. Bluestar said that we can hunt once we're there, to have some energy for when RiverClan attacks. We'll all need our strength to fight off those flea-bags."

Surprise mingled with his disbelief. Darkstripe, actually sounding _not hostile_? Perhaps battle made the tom more cooperative and less prickly—at least, toward his Clanmates.

Fireheart didn't stop to chat as he squeezed into a space beside Graystripe. Graystripe's shoulders were hunched and his head was bowed in defeat.

"Scared?" he whispered, ducking a low-lying branch that blocked their trail.

Graystripe turned a haunted face toward him. "Terrified," the gray warrior admitted.

Fireheart didn't respond, but merely flicked his tail over Graystripe's flank. Truth be told, he was terrified too. He didn't want to harm RiverClan, but right now they were just the border patrol meant to stand guard until nightfall. RiverClan had a good reason to attack; Dustpaw had carelessly crossed the border, and if they won a siege they would have hunting grounds along the Sunningrocks. Fireheart unsheathed his claws as he walked, butted by the other nine cats that flanked him in a menacing line.

He would fight tooth and claw to keep ThunderClan territory, yet his loyalty was divided now with the knowledge he burdened. Bitterness, like the salty tang of blood, made his mouth dry. He curled his lip. It was wrong to lie to Yellowfang, but he had two very good reasons why he did.

Yellowfang, as reliable and willing as she was, might get distracted from the omen's message in her efforts to heal the Clan, should their guard fail and they would have to fall back on the camp.

His second, more disturbing reason: The old she-cat's words had the unmistakable ring of a prophecy. He had only heard two others in his lifetime, and so far Barkface's had come true. Spottedleaf's remained a mystery. Though the message had only come in gobbled fragments, his fur still stood on end at the thought. And if the third prophecy chose to reveal itself on the brink of battle then there could be only one reason why:

Tonight, a cat was going to die.

But which Clan would it belong to? And by whom would it be killed?

"Rest." Bluestar's voice sounded ahead of him; Fireheart glanced up. "Split into pairs and take some fresh-kill. Return here to eat, and then we wait."

The flame-colored tomcat looked around in surprise. He had been so submerged in his thoughts that he had been unaware of the patrol reaching their destination. Cats shifted around him before pairing off and splitting up to hunt. Instinctively Fireheart turned to face Graystripe.

"Shall we?"

"The prey won't stand a chance," mewed Graystripe in an attempt at sounding confident, but his meow came out as a hoarse bullfrog's croak.

Tension crackled in the air like lighting. Runningwind and Willowpelt exchanged a few, wary words before diving into the skeletal foliage; Bluestar sat, alone, on one of the sun-warmed boulders; Tigerclaw was already stalking into the hunters' crouch before springing after what must have been a mouse, for a heartbeat later came a muffled squeak.

The two best friends managed a decent hunt just as sunhigh came, returning with a vole and shrew to split. Still leaf-bare scrawny, the prey didn't fill their bellies for long. Clouds massed on the distant horizon. Highstones was merely a dark smudge against the sky. While the patrol shared fresh-kill it began to snow again; their paw marks soon dimpled the ground as they sheltered around the Sunningrocks, watching the sky grow darker and darker with apprehension.

"They'll come soon," Fireheart heard Sandpaw murmur. Her ginger fur was fluffed up with hostility.

"Cowards," hissed Dustpaw scornfully. "It's nearly sunset, so where are they?"

Bluestar twitched an ear but said nothing. Darkstripe turned to look at them in annoyance.

"What are you complaining about?" he hissed, his breath misting in the thin cold air. "If they never show up, I'll go over the elders' coats for a moon with mouse bile out of joy! It's your fault they're going to raid us in the first place. Otherwise, we wouldn't have to worry about thawing our tails out later!" he added scornfully.

Dustpaw lashed his tail. "Watch it," he mewed fiercely, rising to his paws. "I'll have more RiverClan fur to line my nest with than you when this is over—"

Bluestar gave a warning hiss, and the patrol fell silent. They crouched low against the snow.

"Someone's coming," warned the blue-gray queen, her ears pricked.

Fireheart sniffed the air warily, studying the sky. As if a giant wing had blotted out the sun, the clouds suddenly looked darker, tinged a pale gold on the other side of the forest. It was sunset.

Snow whirred harder and drove into their faces.

Now Fireheart could scent what Bluestar had—cat scent, fresh and blowing downwind toward them. He suppressed a scornful snort. Didn't they ever learn to fight against the wind, so as to avoid detection?

He could see a shape with a neat, compact head charging toward them along the opposite bank. It paused, looking around wildly, and stiffened. The cat had spotted them. Something about the way it was alone made Fireheart less cautious. Though RiverClan scents flooded from the border line, he couldn't make out the cat's Clan scent, and it certainly didn't carry the oily smell of fish.

The cat edged closer and Fireheart glimpsed brown tabby fur through the oncoming sleet.

"ThunderClan," the warrior yowled, "you must help us! RiverClan and ShadowClan have united against us and are attacking our camp!"

It was Onewhisker.

"What?" Bluestar growled, crossing the border and leaping—leaping, until her paws skinned the surface of the frozen bank. "Are you a WindClan cat?"

"It makes sense!" Willowpelt marveled, sprinting next to Bluestar's side. "RiverClan swore they'd _attack_ at sundown; it was never_ us_ they intended to hurt, when they knew that we'd have guards posted along the river. They were going to attack the only other vulnerable Clan." Onewhisker scowled at the insult. "Yes, this is Onewhisker of WindClan. Onewhisker," she called, "why did you enter through RiverClan's hunting grounds?"

The brown tabby tom launched himself down the water's edge, and for the first time Fireheart saw him clearly: bloody-furred and scratched heavily. Clumps of torn fur clung feebly to his lean, wind-smoothed pelt and his tail drooped with exhaustion.

"It was the fastest way!" Onewhisker croaked. "I crossed the Twoleg bridge and intended to run atop the ice."

"The river is thin," Tigerclaw remarked coldly. "Graystripe plunged into it nearly a quarter moon ago."

Onewhisker gave Graystripe a quick, searching look before turning back to Bluestar. "Please," he begged, "help us, or we shall be driven from the uplands again."

Before Bluestar could reply Darkstripe thrust his way forward to glare mistrustfully at the tabby. "Why should we help you? We've already risked our necks once to save your sorry skins." To Tigerclaw he added, "Let's leave them for the foxes."

Graystripe bristled. "Oh, so it was you who went searching for WindClan?" he snapped. The gray tomcat spoke directly to Bluestar: "If we let them be driven out now, our efforts from before will have been in vain. Better to stand alongside WindClan now than be driven out later."

Bluestar shook her head thoughtfully like a wet, water-logged otter. "Graystripe speaks the truth," she meowed to her patrol. "Friends must support each other in and out of battle. Our rivalries are ended for the moment; we fight for WindClan!" Then, with a battle yowl, she launched herself onto the icy river.

Fireheart gasped as she skidded over the top, leaving diagonal gashes where her unsheathed claws sliced over the top. He jumped to his paws, ready to jump in should she vanish below the ice. In spite of his bitter resentment, he knew that if she drowned she would be dead for good—even worse, Tigerclaw would replace her as the leader of ThunderClan.

Instead of falling through Bluestar straightened majestically, padding slowly across the water. Gushing black torrents swirled below her paws, but without falter in her stride the she-cat made it halfway out.

"It is thick enough to hold us if we cross one at a time," the blue-gray queen called encouragingly. "Come, ThunderClan. I shall meet you each halfway out."

Sandpaw stared in disbelief. "She's insane," breathed the pale orange apprentice, awe and amazement ricocheting through her whisper.

Tigerclaw cuffed her over the ear. "She's your leader," the massive tomcat meowed. "Show your respect. Now, we cross. You first, Fireheart," he growled, glaring at Fireheart.

Fireheart swallowed the fear rising like bile in his throat. He wouldn't show Tigerclaw how afraid he was! Reeds trembled as he stalked through them and bounded down the rolling banks, pausing to test the ice delicately with his claws. The ice didn't even stir. More certainly he placed his feet over the surface and padded stiffly across. His Clanmates' gazes scorched his pelt as the ginger cat nearly slipped on the sleek surface.

"Hurry up!" Darkstripe yowled as he lashed his tail. "We're going to freeze to death if you go any slower!"

_Easy for you to say._

Fireheart watched as Onewhisker kneaded at the ground with his claws. He could tell that the young tabby was anxious to return back to the battle.

"Bluestar," he called, an edge of panic to his voice, "couldn't we cross the stepping stones and travel by the gorge instead? It would be faster!"

"No." Bluestar reply was firm, but not unkind. "To backtrack now when we are already in RiverClan's hunting grounds would be a fruitless waste of time."

As she said these words Fireheart bunched his muscles and sprang, clearing three tail-lengths of ice before sliding on his belly past Bluestar. Sandpaw and Dustpaw couldn't stifle a _mrrow_ of laughter as Fireheart skated painfully the rest of the distance. Sliding to a halt, Fireheart's nose roughly bumped the unfrozen pebbles and rocks blistering out of the ground. He cursed under his breath and stood unsteadily, glad that his paws were safely back on land.

"You fool!" hissed Onewhisker impatiently once Fireheart had scrabbled through the dry reed beds. "You could have cracked the ice jumping like that! It might have splintered! What did you think you were, a flying hedgehog?"

Fireheart bit back a sharp reply. He had only thought that jumping would have sped up the distance to run. "I'm sorry," he mewed, hanging his head.

Onewhisker's tail quivered. "It's okay. And I am too. I've seen decent cats fall into the gorge and drown," the brown warrior rumbled. "I was just scared that would happen to you, too."

Before Fireheart could reply Graystripe was loping over to join them. He had just crossed frozen river too.

"Thank goodness," the striped tom mewed, nudging Fireheart in the flank. "I thought that the ice wouldn't hold you up..."

He was shivering, and Fireheart knew why. Graystripe's own fall into the river a moon ago probably still made him sick of water-logged fur.

One by one, the cats crossed the ice. Some, like Graystripe, hastened their stride and made it across in several rabbit hops. Others weren't as lucky. When Runningwind had crossed it had begun to crack under his pads. Jagged lines had zigzagged under his shadow as the lean tabby tom had flung himself toward the bank. Gradually the number dwindled until only Bluestar remained halfway out.

Bluestar narrowed her eyes as she stalked forward, testing for soft spots with her paws every few heartbeats.

Fireheart wanted to yowl his gratitude. _We're going to make it!_ The battle was only a good run away once Bluestar rejoined them.

Bluestar placed her claws where Fireheart had skidded earlier. An ominous creak groaned from the ice. Before he could blink the ice cracked like lightning on the opaque surface, splitting and engulfing his leader like the salivating mouth of a snarling beast. Cold, black water surged over the surface of the ice, and the chain reaction made that area of the river begin to break apart.

Mousefur let out a screech and braced herself to spring in after Bluestar, only to be shunted back as Tigerclaw raised a large tabby paw.

"Wait," the deputy snarled, lashing his tail. "No cat goes in after her."

Fireheart whipped his head around to glare at him. He was actually stopping a rescue? Did he fear that Bluestar being saved threatened his chance at leadership one day, or did he not want any other cat to get hurt? Ominous proclamations beat their way into his frantic mind. Did Tigerclaw want Bluestar to drown?

"Are you insane?" Mousefur obviously shared Fireheart's concern. "The water is freezing. Look at the current! It will sweep her away if we don't get her out, or she'll freeze to death!"

"Bluestar still has four lives left," Tigerclaw answered grimly, his eyes flashing like amber discs. The massive tomcat raised his voice over the cries of panic rushing from his warriors. "Bluestar valued her Clanmates' lives more than all nine of hers put together! Would she have wanted you to risk yours in attempt to save her?" When no replies were voiced Tigerclaw added, less gruffly this time, "I want Darkstripe and Willowpelt to stand alongside the river. Keep a lookout until you either catch sight of her, or we return from battle—"

"Look!" Graystripe caterwauled, as he launched himself down the sandy, ice-slick slope. "There, down stream!"

Heads turned with gasps of amazement. Fireheart squinted his eyes and cast them in the direction Graystripe had pointed out. Besides the endless swirl of eddies and ice chunks, he saw nothing. Suddenly Bluestar's head bobbed from the depths of the river. She was swimming! Against the current her fur lagged behind her, clinging to her bones like sodden moss as it was churned back against the tide. Relentlessly the she-cat surged in the surf, paddling with her forepaw and kicking out with her back legs.

Onewhisker gave a startled mew. "Your leader swims like an otter," he remarked in awe. "I thought that only RiverClan inherited that skill."

It was true. As Bluestar scrabbled for a hold on the bank her blue-gray coat shed the frosty water like a holly leaf. Surprise sparked off Fireheart like white-hot flames. ThunderClan cats were better know for stalking through the dense undergrowth and tracking, not their swimming skills.

Fireheart cut his musings short as Tigerclaw bounded up to her and nosed through her fur.

"No leeches," he growled, sniffing along her sodden spine. "Breathing okay? Numbness anywhere?"

Bluestar shook her head firmly. "I-I'm f-fine," she chattered, her whiskers trembling violently.

Willowpelt gave a skeptical snort. "You're in no condition to fight. A dunking in the river will make you more susceptible to whitecough, or worse," she growled, touching noses with her old friend. "I think you should head back to camp."

Bluestar's neck fur rose as a bitterly nippy breeze ruffled their pelts. "Perhaps it is so," the leader mewed so softly that her words were carried away on the lingering wind. "Very well. I will head back to camp, but if midnight comes and goes and you're not back then I'll send reinforcements, and I shall enter the fight myself."

There was a warning note in her mew, grave and angry. Fireheart flexed his claws. At last, a chance to fight back and help WindClan! _And Bluestar won't risk her final life in battle after all._

Without another word Bluestar spun around and headed along the bank, her flanks heaving as she ran. At the top of a low rise the she-cat glanced back to meow hoarsely, "The safest return route will be the stepping stones. May StarClan light your path!" And then she was gone.

Tigerclaw waited until she had left before turning back to the patrol. "We've wasted a lot of time," the massive tomcat meowed quietly. "Onewhisker, lead us to your camp. Runningwind, take the rear. Everyone: be prepared to fight for WindClan as if these warriors were your own denmates."

Despite his formal words disgust curled Tigerclaw's lip. Clearly he disliked the idea of helping another Clan when their own could be fortified and prepared for attack. Despite his open distrust Tigerclaw stepped back and allowed Onewhisker to take the lead. Meowing, "This way!" the brown young tabby threw himself over a snowy knoll and charged into RiverClan's heartlands.

Fireheart's eyes began to sting as they ran. Frozen marsh glittered with plant life everywhere he looked: willow tips tickling the soil, peaty earth rolling into banks, and reeds clumps that poked through ice patches as far as the eye could see. As he slipped between a glade ringed by bushes and thin, scraggly elms he came near enough to see a tick imprisoned in frozen tree sap on oak bark.

With every paw step the ginger warrior was highly aware that they were trespassing in enemy territory. Even with Graystripe at his side he felt anxiety and discomfort prickle like ants marching down his flank. Everything felt alien and isolated. Even the chirping starlings that signaled twilight with their birdsong had fallen silent, like overseeing the vigil of a fallen leader. Forebodings of blood dripping at his paws chased the darkest corner's of Fireheart's mind. Behind every leaf he expected enemy warriors to jump out and attack, even when he knew they had allied themselves with ShadowClan and were ravaging the sheltered hollow of sand, wind and gorse.

Tigerclaw slowed only for a second as they approached the Twoleg bridge. It was made of timber instead of the black stone that snaked over Thunderpaths. He signaled with his tail, and in groups of two they crossed the bridge. It rattled slightly like the breath of some skeletal monster as they crossed and made it to the other side. Quickly they pressed on, safely touching the opposite side. Fireheart, despite his battle-ready alertness, tasted the air and nosed the ground briefly. Sure enough, the trail was dimpled with countless paw steps, too faint for Twolegs to notice but worn enough that a cat could feel them with its pad. He was standing over an ancient site were hundreds of RiverClan cats must have crossed to reach the Gathering.

"Fireheart!" Runningwind hissed. Fireheart jerked his head and saw the patrols silhouetted on a nearbye slope, ready to charge. "Pick up the pace!"

Reluctantly, he tugged his feet away and plowed through the snow after them.

As the patrol skirted the gorge Fireheart chanced a glance down. No, the water still roared like the whole of LeopardClan, waves slapping the rocky crags and clawing up at the victims walking along its edges so precariously. He drew back and was surprised to feel his heart thudding painfully, as if fighting to break through his ribs. Cautiously he looked at Graystripe.

The gray tomcat's face was weak with nausea and terror; Graystripe kept stealing glimpses at the torrent of water, and he knew that his best friend must be reliving his old nightmares.

Thankfully Tigerclaw veered away from the sharp drop and sprang up a slanted black rock. It was the same one Graystripe had scouted from on their mission to locate and return WindClan to the moorland. His tabby fur looked like bracken in contrast with the sharp grays. Mousefur, Willowpelt and Darkstripe blended in best with their dark coats of stony colors, a did Graystripe's single-striped pelt. Fireheart, Runningwind, Onewhisker, Sandpaw, and Dustpaw waited below.

"We're nearly there now," Sandpaw hissed impatiently, scuffing the peaty ground. "Why don't we go already and fight?"

"We need the advantage of surprise—" Runningwind began to say, only to be cut off a heartbeat later as Tigerclaw thudded onto the ground beside them.

"It's time to go," the deputy growled. "The first wave will consist of myself, Fireheart, Dustpaw, Willowpelt and Darkstripe. The rest of you shall wait until I call." Signaling with his tail he led the ThunderClan cats and WindClan tom through the heather.

Gradually the patrol fell silent as they followed Tigerclaw, their unease betrayed in their twitching tails and bristling pelts. Fireheart twitched his ears. Over the howling of the wind he heard the sickening thud of bodies twisting over the crunching snow, and the battle-screeches of cat on cat.

_No. . ._

The clearing below was filled with cats writhing and slashing each other, biting scruffs and dragging stragglers back into the river of glinting fangs and claws. The overwhelming smell of blood flooded his nose, causing bile to rise in Fireheart's throat; it was strong enough to nearly bring up the rabbit he had devoured the night before.

Fleetingly he caught sight of Tornear vanishing beneath two ShadowClan warriors. Morningflower bared her teeth at a RiverClan cat, and Barkface turned on an approaching enemy that had tried to stop him from treating Thrushwing's wounds.

"ThunderClan, attack!" Tigerclaw screeched. With a grunt of effort the huge tabby bowled down the hillside, kicking up snow as he ran. Darkstripe's tail waved out behind him as he landed screeching on the back of another warrior. Fireheart's own battle-ready muscles pumped as he fled the safety of the heather. Claws unsheathed, he lunged at the nearest cat within scratching reach.

A brown ShadowClan tom whirled around just as Fireheart's claws made contact with its tail. The apprentice snarled and flung itself at Fireheart, rolling him over and shoving his muzzle into the bloodred slush. Using his back legs Fireheart pummeled the brown cat in its briefly exposed belly. He recognized him instantly; it was Oakpaw. Oakpaw released him, spitting madly, as Fireheart pushed himself to his paws. He threw a well-aimed blow at Oakpaw's muzzle. Oakpaw reared up on his hind legs and Fireheart jumped up as well to meet the counterattack, the two tomcats flailing at each other like dancing hares.

Oakpaw stumbled. Quick as a falling stone, the ginger warrior slammed all his weight down on Oakpaw's shoulders. Bruised and battered, Oakpaw struggled out of his grip and floundered back into the battle.

Fireheart slithered around Ashfoot and Cinderfur. A cry of help rang into the night.

Onewhisker had been recaptured in the pit of the battle. Cats wrestled in a tight knot at its very center, and Onewhisker was at Nightstar's mercy. Leopardfur stood at the old cat's flank, snapping at WindClan warriors as they tried to edge closer and help.

Fireheart was close enough to hear Nightstar's threat: "We're taking back the prey you gorse-grubbers stole from us."

"Stole from you?" Onewhisker's eyes were huge with shock. "Those were _rogues_!" he mewed desperately.

"Where's your proof?" sneered Nightstar.

"Where's WindClan's famous honor?" Leopardfur added snippily. "I thought that you were a noble Clan."

"I thought so, too." Onewhisker's face grew dark as he growled, "At least prove RiverClan and ShadowClan fight for a just cause. Kill me rather than taunt me, or let me turn tail and flee!"

"You'd flee to have ThunderClan fight your battles for you!" Cinderfur taunted. "I can see Willowpelt's pale gray fur, and Darkstripe's tabby pelt in this battle. Is WindClan so weak that it has to beg for help from the enemies?"

"Every cat knows that WindClan runs fast because they constantly hide from their battles like kittypets!" Blackclaw's passing jibe seared Fireheart's ear fur like grazing claws.

"ThunderClan are never our enemies!" Onewhisker swore, struggling vainly to throw off his attacker. "You crow-food–eating liar!"

"Warriors fight for what is theirs," Nightstar added with venomous courtesy. "If you can't even chase loners out of your territory then you don't deserve it."

"Brokenstar would be proud," Onewhisker spat defiantly.

"I am not like Brokenstar. _Silence!_" hissed Nightstar, pressing Onewhisker's bleeding muzzle into the snow. "He fought to drive out anything that threatened his reputation. He fought for greed and bloodlust, not for his Clan. I, however, will lay down all nine of my lives to feed ShadowClan if it is starving, no matter what." He let his breath billow out into Onewhisker's face. "Can you say as much?"

"Go find your fresh-kill elsewhere, traitor!" Fireheart snarled, and with a burst of speed he pelted himself at Nightstar. At the same second Tigerclaw flung himself at Leopardfur with a vicious yowl; the patrol that had been plucking their itching claws at the top of the slope pricked their ears; then, with Runningwind leading them, the second wave poured through the thorn-sharp gorse and launched themselves wildly at the clashing Clans.

Nightstar's muscles hadn't lost their leanness, despite his age. Fight after fight had hardened them, so even starving in leaf-bare he was battle-ready. Fireheart and Nightstar somersaulted across the clearing, parting through the crowd like a stone in a stream. Fireheart let himself go limp; slippery as an adder, he slid from underneath Nightstar and let the black tom continue to roll in a tangle of paws. He charged, raking his claws down Nightstar's back. Nightstar's eyes stretched wide as he realized who his attacker was.

"You," Nightstar meowed icily. "Why not go back to your safe kittypet life?" Though there was a jeer in his mew, Fireheart thought he also detected concern. "You'll starve like the rest of us if you don't!"

"And then there will be one less warrior for you to fight off," Fireheart reasoned. It was hard to believe that this was the same cat he had worked with to drive out Brokenstar only a few seasons ago.

Nightstar shoved him off and bit his lashing tail. Fire seared up Fireheart's limbs as he yanked viciously, trying to tug it away. Nightstar spit out his tail with a disgusted yowl.

"Kittypet blood!" the black tom meowed. "Crow-food from the Carrionplace tastes better."

"Speak for yourself," Fireheart snapped back. He prepared to rush forward when two more cats sprang at him out of nowhere.

Blackclaw and Stonefur pinned him to the ground. The scarred gray warrior held down his thrashing hindquarters while Blackclaw shredded Fireheart's back. Fireheart yowled as more slashes joined the open wounds on his back. Blood spurted out of the cuts and rubbed uncomfortably into his pelt. He twisted, only to find suffocating darkness and cats pressing up around him on every side.

_StarClan, where are you?_ he thought desperately. Already a dumbness was beginning to wash over him, as if he had settled down in his nest to sleep. Fireheart blinked his eyes, surprised to find his vision red from blood trickling down his face.

Why had Spottedleaf abandoned him? His heart thudded even harder. Was he about to join her in Silverpelt?

Blackclaw's claw work began to lessen. He heard Stonefur screech, and the weight holding him down vanished. He peered up hazily through a cloud of tiredness and jumbled pictures. A cat was approaching him, gray and broad-shouldered. Perhaps his relinquishing vision was a signal of his starting journey to StarClan. Then the cat ahead of him had come to fetch him. _But then why do my wounds still hurt?_ Fireheart tried to distinguish the gray cat but with all the other scents around him and the reek of blood, he couldn't tell.

He didn't know any gray warrior ancestors, anyway. Scratch that; he hardly knew any at all apart from Spottedleaf.

"Have you come to bring me to StarClan?" he croaked out.

The broad-shouldered cat blinked in surprise. "What are you mewing about?"

"Fireheart?" This voice belonged to a skinnier black ancestor with round eyes. Fireheart hadn't noticed it approaching. "We need to go, and quickly."

"Why do we need to depart so quickly to StarClan, warrior ancestors?" rasped Fireheart, still unmoving. Everywhere hurt, and was _sore_. Maybe he needed to be healed in order to ease his journey to the stars.

"Keep laying there and you will be on your way to StarClan!" the gray cat hissed. It nudged him roughly with its muzzle. "Fireheart, there's a battle going on. Get on your paws and follow me!"

"But I'm dead!" An icy claw pierced Fireheart's heart as he realized the grim truth. "Why do the quarrels of the living concern us?"

"Because we _are_ the living," meowed the black warrior. Its nose wrinkled as it added ruefully, "Look, I only chased off those two mangepelts for a few seconds. If I stay any longer then I might be recognized. I _am _supposed to be dead. That's what you told them, right, Fireheart?"

The black cat peered harder at him. Suddenly Fireheart noticed that along this cat's pelt were scratches and bike marks. Watery snow was clumped between the hairs along its pelt, and the fur along it head was ruffled messily. StarClan ancestors couldn't possibly look as bad as it did.

"Ravenpaw?" Fireheart guessed. He stared at the yellow-eyed warrior to the black cat's left. "Graystripe?"

"Thank goodness," Graystripe sighed. "It seems that you aren't going to join StarClan just yet."

All around him the din of the battle rose in volume and deafened Fireheart again. He struggled to his paws and slipped again back onto his sliced belly fur. Graystripe darted forward and nudged him up with his flank. Ravenpaw cast a scared look at the tight enclosure of furry bodies; then, with his tail between his legs, he turned and hared toward the escape route WindClan had taken when they had fled their camp.

"Where are we going?" Fireheart asked, trembling on his unsteady legs.

Graystripe's face darkened. "Be ready to run." He jerked his chin to the right. Following his gaze, Fireheart saw a few fox-lengths away Longtail, Sandpaw and Dustpaw partner-fighting shoulder-to-shoulder against what looked like the whole of RiverClan. Or at least he thought it did.

"We're going around that," Graystripe meowed. "Hopefully we can break for it without any cat noticing and trying to stop us."

"Stop us from doing what?" asked Fireheart, but he was ignored.

He felt the muscles under his friend's pelt harden. "Ready? Now!" Screeching, Graystripe charged forward and made a sharp left around Sandpaw.

Fireheart followed, his paws sending up spurts of pain. The battling warriors were wrenched apart as Longtail crashed between them and a gap appeared. It led right to the other side out of harm's way. _Yes!_ With a last burst of energy he sped between Sandpaw and a dark brown tomcat. The tom's claws grazed his heels just as he cleared the gorse and burst through the bracken.

On the other side of the clearing the noise trickled into distant caterwauls. The stench of blood, however, was still just as thick. This puzzled Fireheart. He padded out into the open.

Ravenpaw was pacing a few tail-lengths away, casting terrified glances up at the sky. He followed Graystripe's scent-trail to a low, over-hanging scraggly tree. Graystripe whipped around as Fireheart approached.

"Fireheart!" he gasped. "You've got to help me!"

"Of course I'll help." He squared his shoulders. "But why is Ravenpaw here?"

Graystripe shuddered and stepped aside for an answer. At the very base of the tree's roots was _Silverstream_. She was curled up in the shape of a crescent moon, panting laboriously and twitching. A thin wail escaped her parted jaws. Spasms laced her heavy breaths; her glossy silver coat rippled with the effort of breathing.

Understanding dawned. "She's kitting, isn't she?" he meowed. "And Ravenpaw is here because...?"

"Because I asked him to come." Graystripe's voice was hoarse as he clawed impatiently at the ground. "Barley departed just now to fetch Cloudkit. Ravenpaw volunteered to stand guard while she gave birth, and I searched for you because I need you to...to help her kit." He turned his bushy head toward Fireheart and fixed him with a glittering stare.

"But why is she here in the first place?" Fireheart hissed. "What sort of queen goes into a battle when she's expecting kits!"

"Silverstream begged her father to come. She was scared for her Clanmates and wanted to watch from the sidelines. Crookedstar agreed, and when I saw her from the top of the slope, I knew that I had to find her, to keep her from getting hurt." The gray warrior lashed his tail and flexed his claws. "Tigerclaw nearly caught me when I tried to avoid fighting Stumpytail. I. . .I had to lie. I had to tell him that I was going after the Clan leader's daughter. Tigerclaw couldn't pass up the thought of taking the kin of RiverClan's leader and holding her as ransom to win the battle. Then when I found her. . .the kits began to come."

Fireheart's had reeled as he listened. _Come on, mouse-brained! _he thought. _Remember the herbs you need!_

A suddenly familiar sweet scent wreathed around his neck, carrying with it the tang of herbs and frosty wind. He shuddered.

"Spottedleaf?" Fireheart whispered, momentarily distracted by the scent.

It was gone.

"Fireheart! Graystripe! The fighting is getting closer to our hiding place!" Ravenpaw yowled.

"Right." Fireheart's mind cleared like a bright greenleaf day. "Until Barley returns, I want you to keep watch, Ravenpaw. Graystripe?" he ventured.

Graystripe shook his head despondently and looked up, his eyes trimmed with sorrow.

"I want you to listen carefully. Barkface's den is right beside the nursery. Go inside, and come back with thyme. It has round flowers and a musty scent that makes your mouth water like catnip. Borage, too, and juniper. If you can't find feverfew then lavender will do. Coltsfoot for...for..." He groped for the ailment the dandelion-like plant cured. "...breathing! Got that?"

Graystripe nodded, kneading the ground with his paws.

Fireheart brushed his cheek hastily against Graystripe's. "Then go!"

The gray warrior bounded up beside Ravenpaw and stuck his head out of the gorse. He darted forward with the speed of a WindClan cat and was gone.

Fireheart returned his attention to Silverstream. The silver tabby let out another wail as a second cramp engulfed her. Her flanks heaved.

Fireheart froze. _Great StarClan, what am I supposed to _do_?_ He hesitated, his fur prickling with unease. He was no medicine cat, but giving birth to kits during a skirmish—with all four Clans raging war and showing their fangs—seemed like a bad omen.

Silverstream's feeble mew made him jump. Swift-pawed and hasty, the ginger tomcat padded toward a small rock and sniffed at the moss growing there. He recoiled, and forced himself to nip the green scraps off the stone before trying to locate a puddle.

_Where is there clean water? I can't wash this without it!_

Like a gift from StarClan he found a puddle deeper in the gorse. Fireheart sniffed at the pool carefully; it was nothing more than a shallow, sandy dip. It was frozen.

Lifting a paw, he slammed it down hard. Cracks ran across the surface. He was able to wedge his paw in and brush the glassy freezing surface of the water. Fireheart dug at the ice, ripping it apart until he could have fit his entire face in. The water smelled fresh; it wasn't stagnant or contaminated. Good.

He dipped the moss in the water, letting it soak before rushing back to the overhanging branches. Silverstream twitched as another contraction seized her.

Fireheart swallowed as he dampened her forehead with the cool moss. "That's it!" he meowed. "Push," he encouraged her. "You're doing fine, Silverstream!"

The wild scents of plants announced Graystripe's return. Fireheart didn't look up as he felt several soft things thud at his paw.

"Can I help?" he asked, hovering close by and breathing down Fireheart's neck.

"You can help by backing up!" Fireheart snapped. "Go find me some moss and keep an ear out for the battle." His stomach churned. "How bad is it?"

"No one has fled yet, and Crookedstar just brought down Deadfoot. It was spectacular. Reinforcements have come, from all of the Clans. WindClan has run out of cats to spare. At the rate it's going, their kits are probably going to be sent off into battle!"

"Deaths?"

"None, though I tripped over a tabby on my way here; it was bleeding pretty badly."

"No one saw you?" Fireheart prompted.

Graystripe shook his head.

Fireheart swallowed. "Please go keep an eye out for Barley or any invaders. We need some privacy!"_ And I need some time to help her through the labor._

"Eat these, Silverstream," Fireheart urged, rolling three purple berries up to her muzzle as Graystripe bounded away. "This, and the thyme"—he placed the tiny white flower alongside it—"might ease the pain from the cramps."

Silverstream opened an eye blearily and whimpered. She open her jaw then clamped it shut, shivering violently. The queen then threw back her neat head and let out a wail that could have rose the dead from StarClan's ranks.

Fireheart flattened his ears to his head before scuffing up the tansy onto the underside of his pad. Before Silverstream could shut her mouth he stuffed the leaf and petals into her mouth, gently but firmly moving her jaw with his paws to get her to eat.

Silverstream swallowed and dropped her head. She shuddered violently again and let out a gruff meow constricted in her windpipes as she fought to give birth. Fireheart shifted awkwardly on the spot and turned toward her tail. Silverstream had done it! A tiny gray bundle of fur was nestled at her side, still and unmoving and damp. Gingerly he stretched forward and began to lick the tiny scrap, registering the filmy sac covering its face. He gently massaged it off with soothing strokes, trying to clean the kitten. Its thin fur was plastered to its body but the dark gray hairs promised to be the spitting image of its father.

"Graystripe!" he meowed hoarsely, "come over here and lick! You wanted to help earlier, didn't you?"

Graystripe, who had been sitting with his flank pressed to Ravenpaw's, came running when he heard his name called. He had been fidgeting nonstop, torn between caressing Silverstream's face with licks and keeping to his word and protecting the queen and his best friend. Fireheart grabbed the kit's scrawny scruff and nudged it across the ground a short distance from Silverstream, careful to keep its face down so that trapped fluid would pour out of its lungs and mouth.

Graystripe froze when he saw his son. "Is it. . .is it dead?"

"No, the kit's alive. Lick his fur the wrong way to warm him up."

"He? It's a tom?" There was a note of pride in Graystripe's meow.

Fireheart nodded; there was no time to feel any happiness for his friend. "There's another one coming," he warned, swinging his head around and marching back to Silverstream. "Keep licking until his breathing steadies out then lay him at Silverstream's belly."

The orange tomcat settled himself at Silverstream's side and gave her a quick lick on the cheek. "Graystripe is seeing to your son, Silverstream. He's alive! Now, get ready for the next one..."

Time seemed to dull and slow increasingly as the tabby queen prepared to give birth. Fireheart didn't know what was forcing him onward, when he didn't have the faintest idea how to help deliver a litter. No starry fur pressed against his flank; ancient whispers did not tickle his ears, or the hot breath of a cat did not warm his cheek. They fought this battle alone.

Beyond the gorse and heather screening them from view, he could hear the raging screeches of cats still warring. He lifted his head to the sky. It was moonhigh. Bluestar's parting words echoed in his mind:"_...but if midnight comes and goes and you're not back then I'll send reinforcements, and I shall enter the fight myself._"

Had Bluestar kept her promise and brought more warriors? How many could ThunderClan spare? It seemed like every warrior in the forest was just a few fox-lengths from their hiding place, fighting to kill. Fireheart wondered how long he had been crouching beside the queen now, helping to see her through the labor.

Silverstream jerked a foot; instantly, Fireheart glanced toward her rump. The second kit had been born; it had a pale, silver coat like a splash of moonlight. It opened its mouth and gave a feeble mewl. Fireheart gently repeated the process he had used on its brother, rasping the kit's fur to warm it up. This one was a she-cat.

Fireheart heard approaching paw steps and looked up to see Graystripe padding toward him, gently carrying the dark gray kit. He lowered it at the curve of Silverstream's belly.

"Is that it?" Graystripe asked. "They'll need to suckle soon and escape the cold, Silverstream included. She can't lay in the snow while there are cats tearing each other apart."

"We still need to wait for Barley," Fireheart reminded him impatiently.

Suddenly they head a loud yowl, and a second later Ravenpaw came bounding toward them. "He's here!" declared the black loner.

Barley, his chest heaving for breath, staggered with Cloudkit drooping from his jaw. The white kitten appeared to be asleep and well. He was only a week or two older than the other two kits, and was still relatively small. He could have been their littermate, had his fur not have dried out and fluffed up like a cotton spore.

Barley quickly tottered forward and placed the kit at Silverstream's belly, then collapsed onto his side, gasping. "Do you—have anything—for muscle cramps?" the black-and-white tom panted. "I must have ran nonstop to get him here. . ."

His harsh wheezy voice fell into a cough. The noise roused Silverstream, who had closed her eyes after the exhausting birth. Her eyes fell on the three kits and she purred softly.

"This is Cloudkit?" she murmured, gently rousing herself enough to nose his nephew.

Fireheart nodded. "The other two are yours and Graystripe's. A tom and a she-cat." Turning to Barley, he meowed, "I can give you coltsfoot to help you relax—"

A new voice spoke, full of aggression. "What's going on here?"

Fireheart spun on his feet to face the newcomer. The brown tom he had avoided earlier was stepping out of the gorse barrier, his hackles raised and flanks smeared with wet blood. Thorns snagged on his pelt from the camp's defense system.

Silverstream's eyes widened in shock. "Loudbelly!" She gasped. Unsteadily she struggled to raise herself into a standing position, and the suckling kits wailed as she disturbed them. Graystripe pushed her back down.

"You need to rest," he meowed with such tenderness that Fireheart winced. Loudbelly's face filled with horror, and then cold realization.

"This is your mate, isn't it?" her denmate asked slowly, taking a step forward. Behind him the howls of fighting continued to rage. "I knew it wasn't anybody in the Clan, especially when I saw no other toms visiting the nursery. And on every border patrol until a week ago I caught the same reek of ThunderClan on our territory. Crookedstar announced it at the last Gathering. And now, I have the proof." He gestured with his tail toward her kits, and Graystripe quickly encircled his mate and children.

"This has nothing to do with you." Ravenpaw spoke quietly from Fireheart's side.

"It doesn't?" Loudbelly mewed harshly. "And who are you, anyway? A rogue?" he added, then shook his head. "But that doesn't matter. I now have another reason for you to be exiled, Silverstream. I always knew you were never truly loyal to RiverClan, not after you demanded that this battle never happen at all! Those kits carry bad blood. They don't deserve to live!"

"Lay one claw on them and I'll rip your throat out," Graystripe hissed, taking a step forward.

Loudbelly narrowed his eyes. "Oh, is that a promise? Fine, then. I'll take you down, and I'll end this pointless battle by revealing the real traitor."

"Graystripe didn't steal your prey! Rogues did!" Fireheart meowed desperately. He unsheathed his claws and stalked forward. "Can't you see? There's no harm in what they're doing."

"When half-Clan, alienated runts are borne to one Clan, and are pitted against their other Clan of origin, they might turn traitor and strike back. There can be no easy path for cats with a paw in two worlds. Mistrust would ravage and burn ThunderClan's forest to cinders; the strength of its heat would dry up the river." Loudbelly lashed his tail. "How can I stand by and permit this to happen? The warrior code commands me otherwise. I'm sorry, Silverstream," he meowed with a shine of regret in his eyes. It was burned away by fury: "But I cannot let you and your kits flounce in your secrecy for a second longer."

Yowling, Loudbelly unsheathed his claws and hurdled himself forward to attack. Barley made a movement to jump him, but it was Fireheart who reached the brown tom first. Fireheart's claws grappled and slid around Loudbelly's sides, hugging him and digging into his sharp ribs that bulged beneath his ragged pelt. Loudbelly broke their midair spin and landed on top. Using the free moment he clawed at Fireheart's back. Fireheart twisted underneath him, and suddenly felt Loudbelly's weight lifted off of him as Barley pummeled him away.

Barley spit at Loudbelly and extended a paw threateningly, missing him by a whisker's length. Ravenpaw slid up on his left. The two loners taught their muscles and unsheathed their claws, preparing for a fight of their own. Fireheart struggled to sit up and shake the daze out of his head.

"No, wait," he ordered, padding in front of them. "Neither of you have enough battle training to take on a seasoned warrior. Graystripe, you need to protect Silverstream." He dug his claws satisfactorily into the dirt. "Leave fox-face to me."

Loudbelly's bewilderment changed to amusement. "A kittypet? Great StarClan, you forest cats never cease to amaze me. _River_Clan, however, has always been pureblood—well it will be, just as soon as I drive out that queen and her kits."

"This _queen_ has a name," spat Graystripe angrily. "Silverstream is completely loyal to RiverClan."

Loudbelly snarled in reply. Fireheart felt his heart pound from the familiar jeer. Suddenly he felt incredibly old and frustrated, like an elder that had lived to see too many battles, too many casualties, too much starvation. He wanted it to end now.

Inflamed, Fireheart sprang like a winged cat, clearing the stretch of ground between him and the RiverClan warrior. Loudbelly's sneer turned into a scream of anguish as he was knocked over. Fireheart lashed out with his claws and teeth, biting and scratching every inch of skin and fur he could reach. Scarlet blood sprayed his face and turned his vision red. He couldn't tell if it was his or Loudbelly's, but he didn't care.

Loudbelly lashed out his claw and nicked the tip of Fireheart's ear. Fireheart tugged his head away feeling his ear tip slit in a vee-shape, the cost of his freedom. Wet blood dribbled down the right side of his face and sank uncomfortably into his fur.

Swiftly Loudbelly kicked out his back legs and threw Fireheart off him. Fireheart careened into a nearbye rock that rose out of the ground. The impact sent a spurt of blood to sputter out of his mouth. Fireheart staggered to his paws again, flexing them menacingly. If this was how Tigerclaw constantly felt, strong enough to fight without worry of his prey fleeing, then Fireheart savored it.

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Silverstream curl her tail over her kits and whisper something to them, while Graystripe paced back and forth. Ravenpaw and Barley both watched from the sidelines stonelike, every other second scanning the gorse barrier to make sure no other intruders broke through.

His distraction lent Loudbelly the opportunity of biting his leg. Fireheart reared back his head and howled as Loudbelly whittled his teeth and drew blood from the new wound. Using his other three legs, he took a heavy step backward, dragging Loudbelly along with him. The RiverClan warrior lost his balance from blood loss and stumbled at Fireheart's paws.

Fireheart yanked his foot free and planted one paw over Loudbelly's neck. _He _was in control. Loudbelly was at _his_ mercy.

"I'm not such a soft kittypet now, am I?" he whispered tauntingly into his opponent's ear. The chestnut brown tom raised his chin, his fear-scent mingling with the rank, salty blood scent from scratches and bite marks on both their pelts.

The fur along his spine tingled. From the previous Gathering, the instinct-like urge to spill blood and shred fur returned, engulfing him. Fireheart barred his teeth, ignoring Whitestorm's words he had told him in the similar position of killing Clawface.

_ThunderClan warriors do not kill unless they have to. We just need to let them know not to show their faces here again!_

Vengeance surged through his nerves, the desire for revenge flooding him. He closed his eyes slowly, and when he reopened them he stared down coldly at Loudbelly. This cat had been prepared to expose Graystripe, Ravenpaw, Silverstream, Cloudkit and Fireheart—how could such a warrior carry no pity?

"Never threaten these cats ever again," Fireheart snarled into Loudbelly's face. "And just to make sure the chance never presents itself to you again, I'll silence you myself."

There was only a second of hesitation. Fireheart tore his claws again and again over Loudbelly's face and exposed stomach. Loudbelly howled, begging for mercy from his ruthless and unprovoked attack. Blood clotted the fur between his toes and turned the white snow around them a deep, crimson red color like deathberries. He could feel Loudbelly's beating heart flutter like a trapped wood pigeon every time he brought his paws down on the RiverClan cat's chest.

"And now we end this!" Fireheart caterwauled. He lunged his head forward and sank his teeth into Loudbelly's neck. There was a sharp _crack_ like a snapping twig, the grating noise of stones on stone. The warrior's eyes clouded over and stared up, rolling back into his head; the deathblow was almost instant.

Loudbelly was dead.

"Oh, Fireheart." Graystripe's breath buffeted his ear. "What have you done?"

"Get off him now, Fireheart!" Barley's voice was sharp with shock. He eyed him coldly. "He's dead; you've seen to that."

"Look!" Ravenpaw meowed.

Fireheart shook his head and slowly clambered off of the lifeless RiverClan warrior, nearly slipping on the bloody ground. Turning around, he saw what had made the former apprentice cry out. Though the duel hadn't touched Silverstream or her kits, Loudbelly's blood had still pooled out from the fatal death blow and wounds on his body. They trickled like tributaries into a single, running current and spilled out near her kits. Cloudkit's fur was red was blood, and the kit was mewling in a high-pitched cry.

Silverstream's meow was convulsed with horror and disbelief. "Loudbelly. . .dead." She quickly bent her head and covered Cloudkit with furious licks, trying to remove the blood out of his coat. "Why won't it _wash out_?" she hissed shortly, her fur fluffing out angrily as she groomed over the red smudge marks in Cloudkit's pelt.

Panting, Fireheart nearly chased his own tail as the excitement and jubilation coursed through him; he felt like a bouncy kit. No more enemies to fight? Suddenly he wished he had chosen to remain behind and fight in the clearing. Tigerclaw and his chief supporters would never have mocked at him again if they had seen him fight just now; how he longed again for the rush of exultant blood in his mouth, fur tearing beneath his pads, the wild light of fear in his enemy's eyes . . .

Fixing his green eyes on Loudbelly's bloodstained, unmoving form, all his murderous senses evaporated. He had just killed a cat. Shame welled up in his throat like bile, making him sick. "What have I done?" he whispered hoarsely to himself.

Graystripe whipped his head around and eyed Fireheart with caution. Fireheart winced as his friend mewed in a stunned, dead whisper, "This was her Clanmate. Oh, StarClan help us! He was only trying to end the battle—it's not your fault he's dead, it's _mine _because I started it in the first pla—"

"Stop blaming yourselves," Barley snapped. "What's done is done. Loudbelly obviously intended to kill Silverstream's kits. I see no place in the forest for a warrior like this." He stared coldly at Loudbelly's body. "Let StarClan judge him now." Though as he raised his head and let his gaze drift over the others, it hardened when it fell on Fireheart. Was he thinking of his sister, and how she had been driven out of her home by near-similar stakes?

_But I killed him_, repeated Fireheart numbly. His legs trembled underneath him. _Tigerclaw killed Redtail just like I did now. He knew what he was doing and he enjoyed it too, all for the sake of power. We still both defied the warrior code._

Slowly he bent down and grabbed Loudbelly by the scruff.

"Fireheart?" Silverstream's face filled with anxiety as she saw him approach her, dragging the bleeding warrior along. "Wh-what are you doing?"

Fireheart deposited the lifeless body and let it thud at his paws. He dipped his head. "I'm sorry," he choked out, biting back sticky tears. "This was your Clanmate. I killed him to keep you and your kits—and Cloudkit—safe."

The silver tabby dropped her head on her paws. Confusion filled her face, along with exhaustion._ It's not fair she has to deal with death right after birth. The stress could kill her!_

"Silverstream?" Fireheart asked slowly.

Silverstream let out a long, noisy sigh. When she spoke it was in an emotionless reply. "I don't blame you, however unfortunate it was." Her speech rose and fell unnaturally. "These kits should never have been born. It was mistake. Loudbelly's death was an omen. If you hadn't been trying to defend us, this never would have happened."

"_What!_" Graystripe exclaimed angrily."There's nothing wrong with our kits!"

Silverstream raised her head and eyed her mate sadly. "Look," she hissed, nudging Cloudkit.

His fur was still red with blood. Fireheart tipped his head to one side. Suddenly, Yellowfang's fragmented half-received prophecy echoed in his ears.

Beware bleeding—_for_ peace will be slain? _Was that what the first part meant?_ White will be stained red, he thought, and in death a miracle.

Fireheart's mind fluttered as he stared down at Cloudkit's white pelt, now damp from the snow and blood.

_War shall unfold, darker than anything before it. Beware_—of?—_the_ _greatest of miracles. Destruction from within._

Prickling with ominous forebodings, he suddenly understood what Silverstream meant. None of the others did, however. Even if she hadn't heard the prophecy, the meaning was no less different. But was that all? What did it mean?

A battle cry did rend the air, filled with menace. Fireheart recognized the familiar voice. It was Bluestar, arriving with reinforcements.

The prophecy tugged at his heart like a nipping mosquito. Fireheart quickly grabbed Loudbelly by the scruff and began to haul him back toward the clearing. Graystripe sprang after him, Barley dogging his heels.

"What are you doing?" the loner asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

Fireheart released Loudbelly. "If I show the other leaders, the battle will end. Warriors don't fight to kill; StarClan has always decreed that fights end when more than enough blood has been spilled."

"But if you admit it they'll label you as a traitor and hunt you down without mercy!" gasped Graystripe. "Especially RiverClan."

Fireheart dropped his voice so that they had to lean in to hear his whisper over the yowls of battle. "They won't know, because I'll them it was an accident."

Fireheart quickly began to drag Loudbelly back toward the brambles. He paused to add to Ravenpaw and Barley, "I can't thank you enough. But you need to head home. Now!"

Ravenpaw nodded. He didn't waste time with formal good-byes, but backtracked up a dense slope and looked back at Barley. "Come on!"

Barley's ear twitched. "I'm on my way," he meowed, and loped after Ravenpaw.

They were gone. Fireheart quickly turned to Graystripe. "I need you to hide, but keep near Silverstream. Silverstream will need to say that she managed on her own. Silverstream," he called to the silver tabby, "the scent of blood and birth might hide our scents, but you'll need to wash away the trace of herbs on your muzzle."

Dipping his head, he staggered numbly away from the two cats and headed for the WindClan camp. His heart lurched when he padded out on the other side. Pools of blood where everywhere, and around him cats fought fiercely, clawing, scratching, biting. Tufts of fur were caught on tussocks of wiry grass and gorse. His jaw dropped open in astonishment. How long had this fight been going on for? He hadn't registered the time since he left the camp that morning.

Gulping, he gingerly dragged Loudbelly by the scruff toward the thick of the fight, where an overpowering stench told him Bluestar's patrol was fighting there. Injured cats laying on the ground recoiled, gasped or hissed as Fireheart passed them with his burden. Loudbelly's body seemed lighter now that his spirit had departed for StarClan.

He spat out Loudbelly's fur and turned to face the knot of writhing cats. "Stop!" he yowled hoarsely, trying to control his squeaking voice. What if they didn't believe him? "You have to stop! A cat has been killed!"

From somewhere beyond the group of strong-fighting warriors came an eerie howl. Its mournful cry was taken up in a din of magnifying grief until the noise overlapped the hisses of still-fighting cats. Warriors from rivals Clans broke apart to see what the source of the noise was.

Tallstar was released from the center of the battle. Fireheart was shocked to see how thin and exhausted he looked; yet the leader still remained on his feet. Bluestar was at his side in a second, and relief made Fireheart even more dizzy than he was before. She was still relatively fresh and unscathed, balancing Tallstar with her shoulder and propping him up.

Neither of them had noticed Fireheart yet. Fireheart pricked his ears in surprise as cats around him staggered to their feet, not giving Loudbelly much of a glance. Their gazes were trained toward the opposite side of the scrubby clearing where the wail had come from.

Suddenly a feeling like foreboding prickled at his chest, making it harder to breathe. He continued to drag Loudbelly through the crowd of massing cats. Their blood on their pelts mingled with his ginger fur as he brushed past the injured and wounded. He could see Bluestar ahead, reaching the front of her enemies and allies; then she threw back her head and let out a unearthly yowl. The cats he had been fighting earlier let out gasps.

_What's wrong?_ Fireheart asked the wind. He shouldered the cats in front of him aside, and they drew back when they noticed he was carrying the dead RiverClan warrior. But that wasn't what had started the riptide of howling.

When he passed Leopardfur, the golden she-cat staggered slightly at the sight of her fallen Clanmate. She didn't challenge him, but rather gave him a pitying, melancholy, empty stare. "A life for a life, I suppose." That was her uncharacteristic reply.

What did her words mean? He padded up to stand beside her and saw what they had spotted. A bundle of fur lay at the entrance to the warriors' den. Its pelt was so clotted with blood that he couldn't guess its pelt color. Its leg was held at an odd angle, and blood flowed freely from several deep wounds along its dislocated leg and backside.

He gently let Loudbelly's body thud onto the ground and stalked toward the cat, sniffing at its tail, the only part not doused in blood. Its tail-tip was dark brown tabby and oddly familiar. Was this the tabby Graystripe had been referring to? Was it dead?

This time he caught the words in Bluestar's mournful yowl, and his heart chilled over as she spoke: "A life was taken tonight. StarClan has shown their wrath, and now I will show mine. War to forest! Enemies of ThunderClan, beware!"

Around him he recognized ThunderClan cats raising their voices. ShadowClan shrunk back and WindClan lurched, as if their exhausted paws could barely support them. RiverClan tensed. For at the same second that Fireheart realized who the blood slicked cat was, Crookedstar had seen Loudbelly.

"ThunderClan will pay for this!"

It was Tigerclaw.


	3. The Longest Prologue: PT 3

That night, the forest remained eerily quiet beneath Silverpelt. The birds hadn't greeted sunset with their usual chorus of chirps and whistles. An owl hooted somewhere far off in the distance. In four separate clearings cats slunk to their nests, exhausted and heavyhearted after the battle from a few hours ago.

In a wooded ravine at the sandy bottom, two cats remained alone to guard the camp while their Clanmates slept on. They had grieved that evening for a terrible loss and marked it with an ancient ritual. In silence, they stared toward a peak of jagged stones and waited to greet the dawn, to escape the chilly winter frost and prepare for the next morning. Overhead Silverpelt lit their pelts pale ginger and dark.

At the heart of a shadowy, marshy territory, one lone leader addressed his Clan with possible battle plans in the days that would follow. Patrols, hunting parties, resorting to Carrionplace food for meals as a last resort. From the dark corners of the camp his warriors' eyes shone warily.

On a snowy plateau cats licked the blood from their pelt and rooted out fur between their claws, clotted there from the brutal fighting. There were many injuries to tend to, but too many to help in one night. The medicine cat had gave up, and the Clan went hungry tonight. Their ragged breathing echoed through the gorse-enclosed space like the sigh of a great wind.

On an island cradled in the fork of a frozen river crouched a reeded camp. Its cats were holding vigil that night and staring hopefully at the stars, begging for solace. A lump of brown fur was crowded around by underfed and wounded shapes. Murmurs swept the camp as they wished the fallen cat endless peace on his journey.

Suddenly, from the grieving circle a broad-shouldered cat rose and padded a little ways off from the heart of the island. She approached two others and dipped her head in a gesture of greeting. The warriors returned the nod, and a cat with a twisted jaw gestured for her to sit.

Weak starlight lit her fur to a blue-gray gradient. "Crookedstar," she meowed. "Has Mudfur said anything?"

"Not yet." There was an edge of impatience in the pale tom's meow. "He's been with her since moonhigh; it must nearly be moonset now."

"Shall I fetch him?" The cat on Crookedstar's left spoke, swishing her tail across the pebbles. She was hidden in the darkness of tall trees' shadows.

"Later," Crookedstar grunted, narrowing his eyes. "When Mudfur is ready he shall join us."

"I'm ready now." The cats had not heard the brown tom approach from a clump of cattails. He dipped his head and settled with his tail wrapped over his paws. Weariness made his whiskers droop.

"How is Silverstream?" the gray-blue cat demanded.

Mudfur twitched an ear. "She and her kits were lucky to have found that sheltered overhang," he rasped. "She said that she kitted away from the battle, and when it was safe she left her kits briefly to fetch Mosspelt. I was afraid that we might have been attacked when we tried to leave the clearing carrying her kits, but none of the other Clans challenged us."

"So the kits are safe?" the other she-cat asked. She lifted her chin, and in the pale starlight her golden tabby fur shown like a splash of sunshine. She might have been a LeopardClan warrior descended from ancient StarClan.

"Silverstream is nursing her kits now," replied Mudfur. He then meowed, casting a worried glance back over his shoulder, "I've given her chamomile to help her relax, and Mosspelt and Greenflower promised to keep an eye on her, but I'm worried. The battle effected her badly. And now that Loudbelly is dead..." He bowed his head in defeat. "She'll need all the strength and help she can get to survive. We have a tricky leaf-bare ahead."

"Mudfur," meowed the dappled warrior, "are you forgetting who you're talking about? This is the Clan leader's daughter. If any cat can survive, Silverstream will."

Crookedstar let out a bone-weary sigh. "That's kind of you to say, and thanks. I dearly regret attacking today, but what other choice did we have? We have no fish, and most of the woodland prey this side of the river has bolted into its burrow." He seemed to stare into the shadows, as if he were talking to himself.

His deputy's eyes gleamed in the semidarkness. "I've been thinking it over, too," she put in quickly, "and I had an idea: With ThunderClan's deputy out of the way, why not try to stake a claim on the Sunningrocks? We can hunt there, fish there, and let our Clan sun itself on those stones. My claws ache just thinking about the cold. Brr!" She shook her head from side to side and tucked her paws in more securely.

Crookedstar's face smoldered, and then his anger subsided. "I grieve for Tigerclaw also," he meowed slowly, "but the needs of RiverClan come first. You might be onto something, Leopardfur. Yes, we might consider that as an option. But later; our elders must be ready to bury Loudbelly at dawn."

"Of course." Mistyfoot nodded and suddenly kneaded the ground. "May I visit Silverstream?" she pleaded Mudfur.

Mudfur nodded. "But don't take too long, and then get some sleep. I know you want to share tongues with Loudbelly one last time," he meowed sharply as Mistyfoot opened her mouth to object, "but you've pushed yourself today. You'll need your energy for tomorrow. And that's an order." Looking awkward, he turned to Crookedstar and added softly, "With your consent, of course."

Crookedstar dipped his head. "Do as he says, Mistyfoot. But report to me before you go to your nest. I want to know how her kits are doing too, but I haven't had a chance to visit the nursery yet."

A clawprick of pride shone in his dull eyes briefly. Crookedstar stood and stretched, nodding his farewell to his senior warriors and medicine cat before padding toward his den.

Mistyfoot waited until he left before darting off for the nursery, her tail waving in the air.

Leopardfur watched her go with something close to jealousy in her eyes, which quickly changed into some unreadable expression. The deputy rose to her paws and prepared to head back toward the clearing to sit vigil when she realized that Mudfur had gone the opposite way. Drawing his leafy scent over the roof of her mouth, she easily picked out his trail over the wetness of fallen snow, and tracked him away from the island. At its edge ice crept up the bank like ivy and froze the sand and pebbles. Here the ice was thinnest and water was most shallow; in newleaf it made easy crossing. A full grown cat would only get its belly fur wet. The rest of the island channels were deeper and required a cat to swim halfway.

On the other side she saw Mudfur walking alone, studying the dark sky thoughtfully. Leopardfur quickly crouched behind a mossy rock. Her breath caught in her throat. She had forgotten that medicine cats studied Silverpelt after kits were born, to read the stars and determine their destinies. It was a private, solemn duty that did not tolerate intrusion. Would Mudfur be angry?

Mudfur paused and lifted his nose into the air. "I can smell you skulking, Leopardfur," he meowed, and to her relief he sounded amused rather than angry. "Some deputy you are. Well? Are you going to keep crouching there like a kit all night?"

The golden she-cat slipped from her hiding place and crossed the icy surface easily. "Where are you heading?" she asked quietly, curiosity gnawing at her belly.

"For a walk in the woods." Mudfur's eyes glinted. "Would you come with me? I could use the company."

Though Leopardfur meowed, "Sure," she narrowed her eyes slightly. If he was stargazing tonight, then why was she being invited along? He could get company any old day.

Leopardfur didn't argue, knowing better. Mudfur gave a tiny nod. "Good." He beckoned to her by kinking his tail, and set off into the deeper part of their territory. She followed him through the stunted trees and leafless willows. Gradually the scenery melted into easy snowy meadows, dimpled with hoof marks from grazing cow and sheep on the far side of their territory. The old pass was used by Twolegs when they herded their animals off to feed. Grass grew everywhere here, tall and lush, hiding them almost perfectly just as the reeds would have done. The glade underpaw would be wet and damp in newleaf.

Trees rose off in the distance, marking another stretch of watery woodland. Mudfur stopped under the shelter of the leafy canopy and settled himself on an assortment of mossy stones. Leopardfur made herself comfortable at the sandy base of oak tree roots and stretched. She fixed her eyes on Mudfur unblinkingly.

Mudfur jerked his muzzle toward Silverpelt. "The stars are very faint tonight," he rumbled. "Our warrior ancestors are more distant with us than ever before. The brightest one there"—he motioned with his tail toward a single, shining light—"is Loudbelly's spirit. I can read it from here. From the way it flickers, I can sense his unease and restlessness. Loudbelly did not want to leave us. But why, I cannot say."

Leopardfur tipped her head curiously to one side. "Can you find Silverstream's kits?" she asked.

Mudfur suddenly swung his head around sharply and gave her a searching look. "You're not normally this thoughtful," he remarked, but not unkindly.

Leopardfur shrugged and avoided his gaze. "Well?" she repeated again.

Mudfur turned back to the nightly expanse of sky, explaining, "They would normally be the smallest of the stars. Tininess represents the size of the kit, and those markers would gradually grow to mimic the growth of the kits. Those stars aren't their spirits yet, but rather another ancestor's, showing us the way. Other times shooting stars, odd formations of the clouds and wind and stars, and so on, represent the message I search for after a birth."

Privately Leopardfur was glad she wasn't a medicine cat. The tenants of the warrior code were easier to remember compared to that! "What about that one?" she suggested lightly, fixing her sights on a dim pinprick just over ThunderClan's stretch of forest.

"That one?" Mudfur chuckled in surprise. "You never cease to amaze me."

"Why?" meowed Leopardfur uneasily, her neck fur rising.

Mudfur shifted slightly to get a better look. "That star," he meowed, "I believe, is the spirit of Spottedleaf eternally glistening over her camp."

"Spottedleaf?" Leopardfur echoed in surprise. "I remember her. She was very polite and soft-spoken. A good cat. I met her at a Gathering once."

Mudfur nodded slowly. "She was a good friend, though very young. I'm lucky to be a medicine cat. Rivalries do not pertain to me; I am free to have friends from the other Clans. My only regret is not having known her better."

Leopardfur snorted, and Mudfur pricked his ears in surprise. "You do not agree?"

"The enemy always brings trouble," Leopardfur responded icily, looking off into the surrounding undergrowth. "I shall never forget the deaths at the paws of the other Clans, or how we've suffered prey-loss, territorial disputes, and chaos because of them. Why we need four Clans is beyond me! And look at that fat kittypet Bluestar dragged into ThunderClan! He taints our purebred warrior blood with his lazy lifestyle and Twoleg stench."

The brown tomcat sighed again. "You speak from your heart, but it has been hardened since you lost Whiteclaw," remarked Mudfur sympathetically.

In the blink of an eye Mudfur caught Leopardfur spin around; the next second she flung herself at him. Mudfur let out a gasp as she writhed and pinned him to the forest floor by the shoulders. The deputy stared down at him with endless sadness, embarassment and anger in her battle-scarred face.

"Don't ever mention this again," she hissed through barred teeth. Slowly she clambered off of him and mewed, as if nothing had happened, "What did Silverstream name her kits?"

Mudfur slowly sat up slowly. He didn't reply at first, but gave the fierce, commanding warrior a long look. Leopardfur prickled under his scrutiny and lowered her head, studying her claws as she flexed them. She hated it when cats brought up his name.

Whiteclaw.

He had been her first apprentice, and no cat doubted that they had been close. It itched her fur every time pity was sent her way because he was gone. She had a good reason to be hostile to outsiders; you couldn't trust them with your life. Looking back on how it was ThunderClan and WindClan's fault, her theory seemed only more accurate. The gorge had claimed Whiteclaw's life when he had fallen over the edge battling Graystripe, trying to defend their borders. Leopardfur didn't need her Clanmates' sympathy; grief wasn't going to hold her back from being deputy and serving her Clan.

Suddenly she wondered if Mudfur would mention to Crookedstar her attack on the medicine cat. Leopardfur squirmed guiltily. Butterflies fluttered in her belly and made the golden she-cat fidget. The RiverClan leader didn't tolerate fools, and would bash her for her unprovoked hostility if he found out. Maybe he'd even go as far as to demoting her rank?

A tail-tip to her shoulder made her look up. Mudfur had crossed over and joined her, his old face lined with regret. "He was a fine young tom. I'm sorry I ruffled your fur. Any cat can forget what he meant to you." He used her stunned silence to add, "Silverstream named them Cloudkit, Featherkit and Stormkit for the color of their fur. I can already see the makings of a large, strong cat in Cloudkit."

Leopardfur sighed. "It's just—"

A yowl sliced through her meow and set the forest alive with the scuttling of fleeing prey. Leopardfur sprang to her paws.

"Great StarClan!" Mudfur exclaimed, "What was that? Surely not another attack?"

Leopardfur pricked her ears and tasted the air. She heard the thudding of paws—two cats, maybe?—and a second later Heavypaw streaked through the undergrowth. His nostrils flared as he pounded after another cat. It kept a tail-length ahead of him, keeping to the dense shadows. Dappled starlight hid its pelt color.

"Heavypaw!" Leopardfur called, urgently scrambling to her paws. "What are you doing?"

The two cats were bounding closer.

"Intruder!" A wildly eager look blazed in the apprentice's eyes as he followed his quarry. However, the thickset tabby's short legs and long fur weighed him down, and his pace fell in his desperate race with the other cat. It pulled ahead, running closely enough that the wind that followed tugged at Leopardfur's whiskers.

The deputy sprang to her paws and pelted after it. "Go back to camp!" she ordered Heavypaw and Mudfur. Without turning around to see if her orders were obeyed she pursued the other cat.

It wove skillfully through the scraggly undergrowth, keeping its balance even when it had to cross a slippery-stoned creek. Leopardfur plunged in after it. Water sloshed her chin, but she left the current and pelted through the forest without shaking the water from her pelt. Open moorland broke; they were nearing the gorge. She knew that its fresh, sharp mist rose up from the sides of the gorge and fogged the ground around it in a dense white cloud. The fleeing cat's scent was swamped by the spray.

"I can't see it!" a voice beside her rasped.

Leopardfur swivelled her head around to see Mudfur keeping pace, wheezing from his old age.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed, digging her claws into the ground the lengthen her stride.

Mudfur didn't reply. "Stop!" he warned.

Suddenly Leopardfur felt her front paws hit the air; she drew back with a startled yelp and threw herself onto her side like a log. Dirt churned against her flanks as she clawed away from the edge of the gorge.

Safe at Mudfur's side, she let her ragged breathing steady; saliva watered from her muzzle as she staggered to her feet.

Mudfur poked her with his muzzle. "Are you okay? That must have been quite a scare."

Leopardfur pulled herself up again, too out of breath to speak. She let her trembling pads carry her toward the foggy edge of the gorge. Peering down, she saw the choppy water froth, lapping at the steep chasm walls. The snow and ice had stilled even the most violent parts of the rapids until they merely slapped against rock.

Mudfur peered down and shuddered. "Close call."

"Even if I was in StarClan you couldn't beg me to jump down there," Leopardfur growled, drawing back a pace. "Did you see where that cat went?" Tension crackled like lightning in her pelt as she fixed Mudfur with a worried gaze.

The medicine cat shook his head sadly. "No—I lost sight of it when I tried to follow you, and I couldn't keep up in this mist."

As he spoke a breeze fanned out over the valley and began to banish the spray. It faded, and Leopardfur could clearly see down the sides of the gorge. Tasting the air for the intruder's scent, she was disappointed to taste only crisp air and water vole. If it had been another Clan cat its scent wold have been recognizable. Even rogues and loners had a distinguished scent around these parts, of crow-food or Twolegs or leaf mold.

And the way it had handled the territory was odd. It had waded the trickling creek like an otter, avoided the bark of trees and undergrowth, and bounded the last stretch of moorland like WindClan. Unless the newcomer was used to this sort of territory than she couldn't imagine how it had outrun her, Heavypaw and Mudfur all at once.

"Mudfur," she meowed, glancing back over her shoulder, "did you notice how—"

Two tail-lengths away Mudfur had gone rigid with his nose pressed against the ground. Leopardfur's question died in her throat; she edged closer to the old medicine cat, raising one paw tentatively. He slowly skimmed a paw over the hard-packed earth and let his pad run across the open ground.

"Look," he rasped, taking a step back to allow her room.

Curious, Leopardfur brushed against his side and stared down. There were two sets of paw marks—one big like a warrior's and one kit-sized—running toward the gorge and vanishing over the edge.

"I-I had thought that the cat you must h-have been chasing was a StarClan warrior." Mudfur's meow wavered unsteadily, choked with fear. "But StarClan does not leave trails in their wake, apart from starry ones like frost. And I only saw one cat run, not two."

"So did an actual _cat_ jumped over the edge?" Leopardfur gasped. Instantly she pressed her chin over the lip of the wall and gazed down desperately, trying to spot a cat from her bird's eye view. Guilt crashed over her at the thought that she had actually forced a cat to go over the edge and kill itself. Whiteclaw's death seemed to dance on the tip of her mind, the memory of his fall grazing her memories with a harsh light.

"N-no! I mean, I don't know. Because I d-did interpret a me-message, so th-that's why I followed you. I thought that this was the sign I had been l-looking for."

Leopardfur swung her head around to face him. Mudfur swallowed, then pointed with his tail toward the smaller paw print interlacing the larger ones of the ghostly cat.

"_Your kin will follow in your pawsteps_," he whispered, his eyes glowing in the darkness.

"'Your' kin? I have no kin," Leopardfur meowed. Suddenly she gave Mudfur a mistrustful look. "Do you have something to tell me that I should know about, Mudfur?"

The brown tomcat curled his lip. "Make no mistake that I am a loyal medicine cat. I have never taken a mate or had kits."

"But then . . . Is this an actual omen for us, or did one of StarClan's warriors race into the rapids?"

Mudfur shook his head slowly. "There is a prophecy no doubt, and it's message was clear—"

"A prophecy?"

"—yes, a prophecy," Mudfur finished, giving her a scolding look for her interruption. "Whether it was a StarClan cat or a living cat, I cannot be sure. But I know for a fact that this proclamation wasn't meant for our ears. That much was clear by the falling of our target."

Leopardfur twitched a broad shoulder. Interest glittered in her eyes. "So some cat's, or cats' children . . ."

"Are going to follow their own lives in ways they can not yet imagine," Mudfur finished gravely.

"Then why were we sent this message if it does not concern RiverClan?" Leopardfur asked hotly, though in the pit of her stomach she felt fear pulse.

The medicine cat spoke without replying directly to her question. "It is odd how it came on the night after a battle and a birth. Uneasy, even. You shouldn't have even been here to see it. I want you to promise me that you won't share what we've just seen and heard with any other cat, including Crookedstar."

"But what about Heavypaw?" objected Leopardfur.

"Tell him it was just a stray lost in the woods."

"And what about RiverClan? If StarClan made a mistake and sent the wrong cats their prophecy—"

"StarClan makes no mistakes."

"Fine!" Leopardfur snapped. His evasiveness was getting on her nerves and making her more fretful. "Then just tell me why this is so important if it wasn't meant for RiverClan!

Mudfur glanced at the sky before turning his head toward Leopardfur. Her own stark terror and confusion were reflected there, along with something else, some emotion that she couldn't name. A thought crossed her mind like a scuttling mouse, something important, but when she sprang at it her prey launched into the shadows just out of reach.

"Because it will one day concern every living cat, and all four Clans in the forest."

* * *

Okay, I have several things to say.

1.) Please do NOT review and tell me that this is one of those dead giveaway prophecies. Please? For some purrs and chocolate? I'll be so sad if I see something like this; oh, I can almost picture the reviews now:

'Lyk omg its about cloudtail!!1! every1 nos that.'

It's actually clever, really, because it has no implication to any cat general; just because this story will be taken from his point of view does not mean that it refers directly to Cloudtail. For all you know, it could have been a mistaken prediction in their ancestors' eyes. Or he could be viewing the prophecy's aftermath through the eyes of the unaffected outsider. Or it could be like the time Cinderpelt mistranslated the tiger and fire prophecy. Or I could be a cute little liar. You won't know just yet, and I'm not saying.

**In a nutshell**: For now I'm keeping Cloudtail as Cloudtail, and generally everyone else the warrior names they had been given in the series unless they were kits/apprentices killed off before they achieved warrior status, or in this fanfiction warriors will die at apprentice/kit ages. Or if they become elders being limbs then I'll rename them. So someone like Thornpaw could die and stay as Thornpaw in StarClan, and Swiftpaw will live and get a warrior name that _I_ bestow upon him. Whoops. Did I just spoil something? xD

2.) I loved the pairing GrayxSilver so much. I cried reading the chapter when she died. It was sad that Graystripe lost her, and then he was willing to trade away everything for his mate and the kits, including his Clan, his honor, even life itself. So I wanted to experiment with this pairing, and what it would have been like had they maintained a secret relationship. This is also the first and BEST forbidden romance in the series that we actually see, not LeafxCrow, or FeatherxCrow, or StormxBrook. Not that these weren't great or anything... it's just that this was _the_ first and shortest forbidden romance! Ever. And ever. And ever and ever and ever—

-slapped-

Sub-note: Queens normally stay pregnant for one-two moons, sometimes shorter, before they have the kits. The reason it seems so much quicker than that is because, for the writing of this fanfiction, Silverstream became pregnant much earlier than Graystripe let on; thus, he didn't tell Fireheart right away, for fear that his best friend would betray him and throw his fortune to very angry ThunderClan cats! It was when they were thrust into the same situation that Graystripe revealed his parental role, hoping that his best friend would glean some sympathy and help rather than hinder.

3.) The deaths will be different, the pairings will take on whole new, complex forms, and we'll delve deeper into the very tiniest aspects of warrior-, medicine cat-, queen-, kit-, and elder-lifestyles and the tenants of the warrior code. I'll also be using cats that never quite got star appearances in the original series, or ones that were accidentally forgotten in the allegiances. I don't blame anyone for that, though. :D I'm not referring to the wonderful Erins, of course!

4.) There are a very few important detailed key points in the prologue, and a few scene rearrangements and cutouts. Silverstream's kitting, for instance: If the plot was going to mold right then she needed to get pregnant a few moons earlier than what was expected. They were all done for several important reasons I'll introduce in later chapters. Perhaps you can find them. You'll also notice a few changes in battle scenes, events, and postponed marks from the other story.

5.) There will be several "books" (fanfictions) to the story that follow in the steps of _Forest Of Secrets_,_ Rising Storm_, _A Dangerous Path _and _The Darkest Hour_, only with different names and plots (to my liking and reader-reviewer—suggested ones). The time periods will remain the same (possibly), like a season or two for every book, generally three-four moons.

Book one (_Forest Of Secrets_–replacement): Traded  
Book two (_Rising Storm_–replacement): Burned Path (tentative?)  
Book three (_A Dangerous Path_–replacement): Shades Of Darkness(tentative?)  
Book four (_The Darkest Hour_–replacement): The Red Forest (tentative?)

I might even do a TNP or PO3 version.

6.) I might stop writing this if I get serious writer's block or...or this doesn't get very far. ...sorry.

7.) The opening paragraph is from _Fire And Ice_. The rest I wrote based off of everything leading up to that point. My version picks up from there.

FINAL THINGY: Did anyone notice how I arranged the bolded text? It's a poem, if you look carefully, set at each divider to mark a certain turning point or aspect of the prologue. This is it in fullest:

Fanfiction 1 (_Traded_):

Marked by birth;  
Born into despair.  
My friend, you've walked  
Into the spider's snare.

Travel in numbers,  
For a fight will break.  
Not all hope is lost —  
But everything is at stake.

(I even came up with versus for the next three prologues to each fanfiction! They are as follows, but **not** official:)

Fanfiction 2 (_Burned Path_):

From within the Clans are crumbling,  
The forest itself will be buried  
With tensions heralding the dawn,  
Each wave of energy surmounting.

Secrets forge strife,  
Actions speed away from minds.  
As a whole we must cope  
With our own unique finds.

Fanfiction 3 (_Shades Of Darkness_):

Each opinion must not go unlooked;  
Voices, melting, into a single pool.  
Destinies will be entwined, and  
Strength from inside is the key to rule.

Spirits rising from the ashes;  
Challenge blazing in their eyes.  
These chosen cats hold the future  
To vanquish all truth and lies.

Fanfiction 4 (_The Red Forest_):

Pelt of cloud white, able and open,  
Drawn to treasure for self-gain.  
Coat of misty silver, swift and fierce,  
Forever to be a sodden bane.

Fur of stone-gray, strong and loyal,  
Unfamiliar with destiny's path.  
These cats face blood-sodden soil  
And the very forest's wrath.

Ta-da.

I actually considered this as the prophecy, and I wanted to add more versus but I couldn't cram it all in.

I doubt the chapters will all be as long as this. Lengths will vary depending on the twists and turns of the story itself.

**Reviewers**: _Purrs_ and any chocolate flavor of your choice)!**  
Critiques**: _Purrs_, chocolate, and my thanks for helping improve this in any way, shape, form or dimension with honest criticism!**  
Flamers and Haters**: BRING IT ONNNN!

- alex


	4. Allegiances

Nearly four moons after the terrible battle on the moor have passed and tensions remain high among the Clans of cats that live in the forest. Whispers of revenge spread from Gathering to Gathering, and dark times billow over the forest and the warriors who thrive there like a storm. Young cats in training are not the only things being harvested; Cloudkit, Stormkit and Featherkit knows that there are secrets churning in an undercurrent of danger from a time long before their time, longer and deeper than the river, secrets that cats would die to protect. It seems that half of their Clanmates are shielding a forest's worth of secrets

The time is nearing for he and his littermates to become apprentices—the future of RiverClan—anddefeat the other Clans that threaten unstable borders and prey-loss. But there's always the gnawing wonder if grooming kits for war is the right answer, if the only. Leaf-bare's grip is loosening, but another's is growing stronger by the day.With death and darkness at every turn, the three kits know that the choices ahead will be uneasy and uncertain. Whatever the challenge, their courage and skills will be tested as the race for survival begins.

**I know, this sucks by far. Please, to spare you all of its awfulness and get right to the point: Four moons later it's newleaf and the Clans are warring. A prophecy has been cast, and...yeah. I think that's it.** **If you want to know the rest then read on, baby, read on!**

**TRADED ALLEGIANCES**

**T H U N D E R C L A N**

LEADER **BLUESTAR** — blue-gray she-cat, tinged with silver around her muzzle.

DEPUTY **WHITESTORM** — big white tom; temporary deputy until Tigerclaw's full recovery.

**APPRENTICE, THORNPAW**

MEDICINE CAT** YELLOWFANG** — old dark gray she-cat with a broad, flattened face; formerly of ShadowClan.

WARRIORS (toms and she-cats without mates)

**DARKSTRIPE** — sleek black-and-gray tabby tom.

**LONGTAIL** — pale tabby tom with dark black stripes.

**APPRENTICE, SWIFTPAW**

**RUNNINGWIND** — swift tabby tom.

**FROSTFUR** — she-cat, with a beautiful white coat and blue eyes.

**WILLOWPELT** — very pale gray she-cat with unnusual blue eyes.

**APPRENTICE, BRIGHTPAW**

**MOUSEFUR** — small dusky brown she-cat.

**FIREHEART** — handsome ginger tom.

**GRAYSTRIPE** — long-haired solid gray tom.

**APPRENTICE, BRACKENPAW**

**DUSTPELT** — dark brown tabby tom.

**SANDSTORM** — pale ginger she-cat.

APPRENTICES (more than six moons old, in training to become warriors)

**SWIFTPAW** — black-and-white tom.

**BRACKENPAW** — golden brown tabby tom.

**CINDERPAW** — dark gray she-cat with a twisted hind leg.

**BRIGHTPAW** — she-cat, white with ginger splotches.

**THORNPAW** — golden brown tabby tom.

QUEENS (she-cats expecting or nursing kits)

**BRINDLEFACE** — pretty tabby. Kits: Ashkit (pale gray tom with darker flecks) and Fernkit (pale gray she-cat with darker flecks).

**GOLDENFLOWER** — pale ginger coat.

**SPECKLETAIL** — pale tabby, and the oldest nursery queen. Kit: Snowkit (white tom, blue eyes).

ELDERS (former warriors and queens, now retired)

**HALFTAIL** — big dark brown tabby tom with part of his tail missing.

**SMALLEAR** — gray tom with very small ears; the oldest tom in ThunderClan.

**PATCHPELT** — small black-and-white tom.

**ONE-EYE** — pale gray she-cat; the oldest cat in ThunderClan; virtually blind and deaf.

**DAPPLETAIL** — once-pretty tortoiseshell she-cat with a lovely dappled coat.

**TIGERCLAW** — big dark brown tabby tom with unusually long font claws; currently in recovery and removed as deputy.

**S H A D O W C L A N**

LEADER** NIGHTSTAR **— old black tom.

DEPUTY** CINDERFUR** — thin gray tom.

MEDICINE CAT **RUNNINGNOSE** — small gray-and-white tom.

WARRIORS** STUMPYTAIL** — brown tabby tom.

**APPRENTICE, BROWNPAW** — broad-shouldered brown tomcat.

**NIGHTWING** — black she-cat.

**BRIGHTFLOWER** — black-and-white she-cat.

**WETFOOT** — gray tabby tom.

**APPRENTICE, OAKPAW** — small brown tom.

**LITTLECLOUD** — very small tabby tom.

**WHITETHROAT** — black tom with white chest and paws.

QUEENS **DAWNCLOUD** — small tabby.

**DARKFLOWER** — black she-cat.

**TALLPOPPY** — long-legged light brown tabby she-cat.

**W I N D C L A N**

LEADER** TALLSTAR **— a black-and-white tom with a very long tail.

DEPUTY** DEADFOOT **— a black tom with a twisted paw.

MEDICINE CAT** BARKFACE** — a short-tailed brown tom.

WARRIORS **MUDCLAW **— a mottled dark brown tom.

**APPRENTICE, WEBPAW** — dark gray tabby tom.

**TORNEAR** — a tabby tom.

**APPRENTICE, RUNNINGPAW** — light gray she-cat.

**ONEWHISKER** — a young brown tabby tom.

**APPRENTICE, WHITEPAW** — small white she-cat.

**ROBINWING** — light brown she-cat with blue eyes.

**RUSHTAIL** — a light brown tom.

**THRUSHWING** — mottled she-cat with yellow eyes and a pointed muzzle.

QUEENS **ASHFOOT** — a gray queen; mother of Eaglekit (gray tom).

**MORNINGFLOWER** — a tortoiseshell queen; mother of Gorsekit (white-and-ginger tom).

ELDERS **CROWFUR **— elderly black tom with a silver muzzle and scarred flanks.

**OATWHISKER** — creamy brown tabby tom.

**DARKFOOT** — black tom.

**R I V E R C L A N**

LEADER **CROOKEDSTAR** — huge light-colored tabby tomcat with a twisted jaw.

DEPUTY **LEOPARDFUR** — unusually spotted golden tabby she-cat.

MEDICINE CAT **MUDFUR** — long-haired light brown tom.

WARRIORS **BLACKCLAW **— smoky black tom.

**APPRENTICE, HEAVYPAW** — thickset tabby tom.

**MISTYFOOT** — gray she-cat with blue eyes.

**APPRENTICE, SILVERPAW** — long-tailed light gray tabby tom with darker stripes.

**STONEFUR** — gray tom with battle-scarred ears.

**APPRENTICE, SHADEPAW** — dark gray she-cat.

QUEENS** SILVERSTREAM **— a pretty silver tabby, mother of Cloudkit (long-haired white tom), Stormkit (gray tom) and Featherkit (silver she-cat).

**MOSSPELT** — gentle tortoiseshell she-cat.

**GREENFLOWER** — brown she-cat with a pale underbelly.

ELDERS** GRAYPOOL** — thin gray she-cat with patchy fur and a scarred muzzle.

**CATS OUTSIDE CLANS**

**BARLEY** — black-and-white tom who lives on a farm close to the forest.

**RAVENPAW** — sleek black tom with a white-tipped tail who lives on the farm with Barley.

**PRINCESS** — light brown tabby with a distinctive white chest and paws—a kittypet.

**SMUDGE** — plump, friendly black-and-white kitten (tom) who lives in a house at the edge of the woods.

**BLACKFOOT** — large white tom with huge jet-black paws, formerly ShadowClan deputy.

**BOULDER** — silver tabby tom, formerly of ShadowClan.

**BROKENSTAR** — long-haired dark brown tabby tom, formerly ShadowClan leader.

**CLAWFACE** — battle-scarred brown tom.

**JAGGEDTOOTH** — huge tabby tom.

**RUSSETFUR** — dark ginger she-cat.

* * *

**Notes and important changes in the allegiances**:

**.1** In general: I included cats that either got missed by accident (again, I don't blame the Erins one bit!) vanished altogether, or didn't get their own descriptions and thus I made up reasonable ones to substitute the lack of. I'm always open to editing ideas or opinions to things that I missed, guys.

**1.** ThunderClan (notable changes)

**1.1** Tigerclaw — Remember toward the end of the prologue that Tigerclaw was injured severely? It looked like he had died, but in reality he had been ambushed. He had broken a leg and been badly inhured, enough to postpone his deputyship. Almost four moons later and he's nearing the end of a patient, soundless recovery — or is he?

**1.2** Cinderpaw — she hasn't quite discovered her path and yet is still remaining with Yellowfang, seeing to the aid of cats with her crippled back leg.

**1.3** Whitestorm — Bluestar's nephew and close friend has temporarily replaced Tigerclaw and served as ThunderClan's second-in-command well through four long moons of battle and terror.

**1.4** Brindleface's kits, Ashkit and Fernkit — I decided to mention them in the allegiances to prove that they actually exist. Both would have had a third foster littermate had he not been sentenced to death...

**1.5** Speckletail's kit, Snowkit — I thought that I would mention him since he's basically nonexistent until the fifth book.

**1.6** Apprentices Thornpaw and Brightpaw — they're given different mentors.

**2.** ShadowClan (notable changes)

**2.1** In general — all the apprentices are given description but not their own section. Also, I have included the names of cats that stick throughout the series and vanish at some point, or cats who lived in the Clan at this time period and were simply never listed in the original allegiances.

**2.2** Brownpaw — he mysteriously disappeared after _A Dangerous Path_ as an apprentice; thus, I brought him back and intend to give him my own special warrior name, along with a description and (_ahem!_) gender.

**2.3** Nightwing — a black she-cat and the mother of Smokepaw in TNP. We can generally assume she's an older warrior and was probably living in ShadowClan during the original Warrior series. I brought her back also.

**2.4** Whitethroat— he was one of the kits forced into apprenticeship, and still living at this time, so of course I included him again. He was just so awesome!

**2.5** Tallpoppy's, Dawncloud's and Darkflower's kits — since we do not know how many kits there were in their litters or their names, they remain unlisted. Oh, the sadness!

**2.6** Brightflower's kits — we do know that it is possible Mosspaw and Volepaw, Brokenstar's apprentices that were the two killed and blamed on Yellowfang for, could possibly be her children. Whatever way you look at it, she no longer had kits to suckle and returned to living as a warrior. Another kit of hers could have possibly been Blossomkit, but she died as well.

**3.** WindClan (notable changes)

**3.1** In general — apprentices were given descriptions but not their own section, and characters that went incognito were resurrected from the computer's trash bin. Kits are also mentioned.

**3.2** Robinwing — though she was mentioned in _Dawn_ with an apprentice, Thistlepaw, and vanished later on, I have her return as a very young warrior as her age and seniority can be debatable. Please bear with me.

**3.3** Rushtail — he is an elder in _Starlight_, _Twilight_ and _Sunset_. Before that he was a warrior at some point who didn't have apprentices (or Crowfeather!) to cater on him to get him to cooperate. Say hello to another forget-me-not WindClan tom!

**3.4** Eaglekit and Thrushwing — _In Secrets of the Clans: Raid On The Camp! _we discover that this WindClan she-cat and her brother, Stoneclaw, were made warriors the eve of Brokenstar's merciless slaughter. It is said that she had injured a leg and 'fought like LionClan' to avenge her dead brother, but apart from that she was still alive and never mentioned again. I fixed that. As for Eaglekit, he is not only mentioned here, but as well as in the prologue to _Fire And Ice_:

"_Peace? Here?" echoed Ashfoot in disbelief. She pulled her kit toward her and sheltered it beneath her belly. "With fire and monsters? My kits won't be safe!"_

_Ashfoot flinched as a shard grazed her shoulder, but she stayed silent, curling her body around her terrified kit._

- page 2

_Ashfoot scowled and dipped her head to lick her kit behind its matted ears._

- page 3

In conclusion: The great Eaglekit lives!

**3.5** Elders Oatwhisker, Darkfoot and Crowfur — These three toms are elders that make debuts in _Forest Of Secrets_, _Starlight_ and _Twilight_. I'm pretty sure that they were all good buddies, be they younger or older elders. So don't nag and say, "But they lived at different time periods!" Can you prove that, apart from allegiance changes? Nope. So thank you for your concern, but I think we've got it under control.

**4.** RiverClan (notable changes)

**4.1** In general — Silverstream is still alive and Cloudkit has been successfully (if not by a narrow miss) moved into her litter of two. Apprentices and kits are given descriptions, and cats who got skimmed over make return appearances.

**4.2** Silverpaw — this apprentice wasn't given much of a speaking role except for in _Secrets of the Clans: Flood!_. I decided to make Silverpaw a tom with green eyes and gave him a description that worked. Sort of.

**4.3** Silverstream and the kits — So as to not spoil anything, she's still alive and she has her kits, who all look up to her and know her as the mother and 'boss' of the nursery den. Like any good children would.

**4.4 **Mosspelt — the queen who in the original series suckled Graystripe's kits along with Greenflower, but was left out in _Fire And Ice_.

**4.5** Greenflower — hello there character–who–is–only–important–enough–to–support–the–head-honcho–cat. Lucky you, you get to come back! Aren't I just that nice? I had to make up your description because there's none available, but oh, well!

**4.6** Mistyfoot — she isn't a queen with her four kits until _Forest Of Secrets_. She may not even be a queen unless I feel like it. But Mistyfoot is definitely important, just like all of ze kewl RiverClan kitties.

**5.** Cats Outside Clans (notable changes)

**5.1** Brokenstar, Boulder and Blackfoot (the three B's) — All three sieged the ThunderClan camp in _Fire And Ice_. However, they haven't advanced in their plans yet, and remain as nothing more than a threatening group of rogues stealing prey.

**5.2** Clawface, Jaggedtooth and Russetfur — We know that Clawface also fled with his ShadowClan fellows, and later on they recruited Jaggedtooth and Russetfur. As we do not know when I have formally listed them in the allegiances above.

* * *

And now, our story begins . . .


End file.
